


The Fool

by koteosa



Series: Apprentice Kamui [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB Asra (The Arcana), Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Nightmares, Novelization, Other, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Sadism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-02-29 22:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 212,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18787123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koteosa/pseuds/koteosa
Summary: The story of my apprentice, Kamui, as he bumbles his way through a murder investigation and an attraction to both his mentor and the very criminal he's been hired to catch. A highly self-indulgent story written for my own entertainment, but that I enjoy sharing with others as well.





	1. The Lovers - Part I

**Author's Note:**

> The apprentice in this is an established character and I'm not vague with writing him at all, so you might have a hard time trying to self/apprentice insert, if you want a visual of him here's a profile I made for him (I promise I'm good at art): https://toyhou.se/4037168.kamui

It was the dead of night. Despite how extravagantly plush and luxurious the bed was in the guest's chambers, Kamui found himself wide awake, flat on his back, limbs spread out like a starfish. Half his face was buried in the red of his [scarf](https://66.media.tumblr.com/16660d5c323166020c2de2e4fe337da0/tumblr_px4057JArO1qi7tzho4_1280.png), feathery white hair ruffled up around his head. In his hands dangles the magician's emerald, ruby eyes staring into it's polished curves.

Kamui had wanted to indulge—Nadia seemed way more than happy to oblige him, so how could he not?—and the emerald had drawn his eye right away, distracting from all else. It felt like the right choice, a familiar magic thrumming at its core.

Although, speaking of the emerald... there were some things he was left scratching his head over. The fountain, which Portia had reclaimed the jewel from earlier, had worked to contact Asra, for a short while. Most of Kamui's recollection of the event was pretty normal—they spoke, Faust was there. And then... it was like everything had just stopped. Like a dream that you only remembered part of, cut off mid-sentence, jutting forward in time to find the world has returned to normal.

As much as Kamui wanted to know _why_ , he was hesitant. Was there a good reason for it? Or was there something wrong with him? Perhaps he had blacked out mentally, without Asra noticing, or... was his memory getting spotty? Either way, it would worry Asra, and that wasn't really something Kamui wanted right now.

Despite all that... _Kamui_ was worried. There was a lot going on right now, much more than the monotony of daily life, where everything could more or less be predicted ahead of time, with all the same people, the same events, the same tasks. None of it involved the Countess, of all people, or a murder investigation, or... ghosts? That part was kinda fuzzy too...

Actually, now that he thought about it, there were a lot things lately that were kinda fuzzy. Had he truly been blacking out?

It was all too much to have to think about. No sleep was going to be had, no matter how deliciously soft these silk sheets were, or how many exotic, imported feathers the pillows contained ( _and god, can I take some of these home with me? Would anyone notice?_ ).

Kamui slips the emerald back around his neck, positioning it under his scarf so it rests over his ribcage. For some reason, it gives him a strange feeling, a tingly, warm, nerve-wracking feeling, and that's the final push to get him up and out of the room.

He walks with no clear destination in mind; a favorite activity of his, especially of late. It would be cheesy to say he believed in fate, but it was true all the same. Even wandering aimless, he would arrive wherever he was meant to be, and do whatever he was meant to do. Perhaps it would be nothing. Or perhaps it would be something incredible.

Eventually his footsteps lead him out to the far reaches of the palace, where a deep crimson catches his eye. Amongst all the green foliage, it was immediately eye-catching, but for all the wrong reasons, as it quickly turned out.

The red flowed freely along a stream, stained like blood along a path of decaying trees and dead grass. Morbidly curious, Kamui follows it, observing the world around him like one might a painting. It was like he'd entered another world, so different from the palace behind him that he almost feared looking back, like it would break the illusion.

The stream eventually leads him to its source, and for a second, Kamui wishes he had just stayed in bed. There was no mistaking what he was seeing; the tainted water was flowing right into the city. People were—was this what the people were drinking? Surely everyone would notice before putting it in their mouths, but, then... what were they left with? What did they _bathe_ with?

And what did this _mean_? Why was the palace draining their infested water into the city?

A single, five-letter word pops into Kamui's head, and he glares wearily up at the starry night sky with a groan. He'd never met the Count personally, but this still seemed like something he'd do. Why keep such filth in your palace when you could dispose of it in the dirty, disgusting slums instead?

Why care about your people when you could care about yourself instead?

Continuing down the path, yet with much less interest than before, Kamui grits his teeth, kicking at stray pebbles like they'd personally offended him. How disgusting—how arrogant, how self absorbed—how could such a man come into power? With lies? Was it nepotism? Kamui couldn't claim to know the history of royalty in this country—or in any other, for that matter. What he did know was he was, although he wouldn't dare speak it aloud, quite glad the Count was dead.

And that was fine by him. He wasn't really a person in Kamui's mind, anyway, nor the minds of his people, more than likely. Just a figure, a concept. You don't mourn for the bugs you squash under your heel, do you? It wasn't like the Count was anybody's friend.

Suddenly there's something brushing past Kamui's face, startling him from his thoughts. It doesn't take long to register its source—a raven, perched on his shoulder like it belonged there. Kamui stills, as if any movement would break the trust this black-feathered creature had placed in him. For a split-second there's a bit of recognition, like Kamui had seen this bird before, but it's quickly dismissed; all ravens had to look as familiar as any other.

Ruby red meets inky black, the two completely silent as they continue to gawk at each other. Eventually the bird pecks at Kamui's cheek, pinching a bit of skin between its beak and causing him to exclaim in pain, shifting away from the devious little creature.

"Ow—" Kamui rubs at his cheek, the pain quickly subsiding, leaving just the shock. The bird hasn't flown away, even with all of Kamui's fidgeting. Staring suspiciously at the bird, he couldn't help wondering—did it mean something? ...Was the bird magic? He wouldn't have pegged his familiar for an all-black animal, but... wait, didn't Asra say he never had one of those? Hmm...

"Kamui?"

A nearby voice tears him from his thoughts, and this time the bird _does_ flee, vanishing into the dead of night. Kamui doesn't bother searching for it, rather, he zeroes in on the voice, discovering another person nearby.

"Julian?"

Perhaps one might say it was unexpected, to see a familiar face at a time like this. Yet Kamui wasn't surprised at all to see the doctor standing merely a few feet away; something about the scenery, the red streaks in the water, the darkness of night, the gentle glow of a nearby lantern, it painted him in a nice light. He looked like he belonged, blended right in.

"What are you doing?" Kamui asks, walking right up to him, casual. Completely missing the doctor's somber mood. There was an item held in his hands, which catches Kamui's attention as its pulled closer to Julian's torso, as if he could try to hide it; but the white beak of his mask was a bit hard to hide.

"I could ask you the same thing," Julian counters, a smirk breaking out across his face. It feels... off, somehow. "Out for a nighttime stroll?"

"In the slums? Oh yeah, it's lovely here," Kamui quips, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell in the air. Whatever was in the water smelt foul, but that hardly held a candle to the nauseating scent of who even knew what wafting through the streets. It smelled like misery.

"You didn't answer my question, though," he continues. He glances between the mask and the reservoir below, connecting the dots. "You're getting rid of it?"

Julian's eye widens, glancing briefly down at the mask as if he couldn't believe Kamui noticed it was there. When he looks back, his expression has been carefully replaced with a cynical grin. "Perceptive, aren't you?" Julian says. He doesn't bother hiding the mask anymore, holding it out at an angle. "Yes, well, I don't have much use for it anymore. The plague is over, as is my career."

"That doesn't mean you have to chuck it in the water," Kamui says, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why get rid of it? Does it chafe your face, or something?"

Julian lets out an amused breath, sending Kamui a knowing smirk. "You know, Kamui, it sounds an awful lot like you _enjoy_ the look of my mask, grim as it is."

Unaffected, Kamui responds with a shrug. "It adds a certain brooding, mysterious charm," he says. "Although, I'd prefer to actually get to see your face. It's a much kinder sight." That comment causes a pale pink tinge to spread over Julian's sharp cheekbones.

Fiddling with the mask in his hands, Julian averts his gaze. "As... flattering as that is," he starts, letting out a sigh as if to steel his nerves, "I don't really care to look at it anymore."

He holds the mask out, one-handed, in Kamui's direction.

"You can keep it yourself, if you're so fond of it," Julian adds.

Red eyes fall upon the mask, seeing himself reflected in the red lenses. Something about it doesn't feel right. When he tries to figure out why, he gets a distant jab of pain in his temple, quickly letting that thought process drop.

And, anyway, it clearly didn't feel right to Julian, either. Keeping it like some sort of macabre souvenir seemed wrong. As much as Kamui wanted to make light of it, like it was just some fashion accessory—it was more than that to Julian. Enough that the mood surrounding him plummeted the longer he had it in his possession.

"It's not my style," Kamui politely rejects.

"Shame," Julian says, although his tone says it's anything but. With a tired sigh, he holds it out over the water, letting it drop from his hands like so many grains of sand. His single visible eye remains transfixed on it until it disappears from view, swallowed up by the tainted water.

It's poetic, probably.

Desperate to lighten the mood, Kamui says, "Got anymore clothes you feel like getting rid of?"

That shakes a startled laugh free from Julian, who looks a bit appreciative for the attempt at humor. "No, why? Got any suggestions?" He sends Kamui a rakish grin, waggling his eyebrows, to which Kamui chuckles, pressing a finger to his chin in thought. Parting his lips to respond, he's cut off suddenly as the same raven from earlier crashes against his chest, coming seemingly out of nowhere.

He lets out a yelp, tripping backwards; his heel shifts back to catch him at the same time that Julian reaches out to grasp his arm, steadying him. Julian's eye catches on the bird, a clear sense of recognition in his eye. For whatever reason, the raven's appearance sends a clear message to Julian, as, despite there being no evidence to suggest this, he claims there are guards closing in on their location.

"And he told you that, did he?" Kamui asks, skeptical—Julian wasn't a magician, as far as he could tell. Regardless, Julian grasps Kamui's hand, giving him naught but a grin before taking off down the streets, dragging Kamui behind him.

Sure enough, within a few steps, he can hear something, distant but definitely not imaginary; heavy metal footsteps, a voice calling out in their direction. Julian veers off down an alleyway, hoping to lose the trail; he takes wide steps which Kamui can't even begin to match, being maybe two-thirds the doctor's height.

Julian's grip starts to slip before long, but he doesn't falter. Of course not—he was the one wanted for murder, and likely high treason, here. Kamui had a room in the palace, the Countess had showered him in jewelry mere hours ago. The threat level wasn't even close to being equivalent.

Regardless, Kamui keeps following after him, as if that was what he was meant to do. Maybe it was. At the very least, this was a million times more exhilarating than losing sleep at the palace.

Struggling to keep up as Julian masterfully rounds corners, planning his route like he knew every nook and cranny of South End and exactly where to hide—and he probably did, considering—Kamui finds himself slipping, which isn't exactly surprising. It would've been more unbelievable if he _hadn't_ tripped up in some way.

What _is_ surprising, is when his foot hits nothing but air, and his body crashes into the reservoir water below.

There's a distant, muffled sound that he could swear was Julian calling his name. Or maybe he imagined it. There's no reason for Julian to stop for him, anyway, not when his head is on the line.

As he thinks this, something brushes up against him, like a thick leather rope dragging across his body, and that's. Unusual. He barely has time to process that, though, before a sharp pain explodes across his torso, the feel of two thick, sharp fangs piercing flesh momentary before it's all gone, replaced by a dull throb. For what feels like an eternity, the entire world disappears, nothing but his dizziness and pain left behind.

Until a set of hands firmly grasp his shoulders, dragging him free of the murky depths. It feels alarmingly dizzying, like falling from a cliff at top speeds, rather than what was likely a distance even shorter than he was, over in seconds. He can't see much of anything but gray and black shapes for several moments, leaning against the fabric of Julian's coat bonelessly.

There's a sharp pang on his torso as the teeth are ripped free, the creature thrown back to the depths with a dull splash. An agonized groan escapes Kamui's throat, perhaps much louder than it sounds in his own ears; far away, like it was someone else. Distantly, he can hear Julian speak to him, but none of the words are coherent. Slowly, his vision clears, enough to make out the cobblestone tiles, Julian's body crouched in front of him, a crimson much darker than his shirt dripping down the side of him.

The pain is immense—easily the worst he's ever felt, leaving him clawing at the injury, desperate to curl up into a little ball and, scream, perhaps. That sounds nice. Instead of that, though, he's hauled to his feet, a hand around his wrist guiding him away from the reservoir in a hurry. The pace is more controlled, allowing Kamui to keep up much more easily.

He stares down at his shoes, finding it much easier than looking up, or looking at all in general. It's funny—he doesn't remember being pigeon-toed before. His legs move like he doesn't have knees, like they were just stilts attached to his torso.

They stop suddenly, and Kamui sags heavily against Julian's side. Gloved hands move to support him by the arms, holding him up like he was more doll than man.

"Kamui? Can you hear me?" Julian's voice sounds like it's coming from the other side of the street, but he can make it out just fine, regardless. At the same time, he can hear somebody laughing; belatedly, he realizes it's his own voice.

Delirious, his head flops against Julian's chest. "Your accent is so attractive," he slurs, sounding half-drunk. Or half-dead.

"R-Right, so you can," Julian says. He sounds embarrassed. Kamui would look, if only he felt he had any control over his motor functions. "Can you walk?"

He releases Kamui's arms long enough to validify his ability to so much as stand on his own, but Kamui's knees immediately collapse out from under him. Julian's quick to catch him, pulling him back up as he was before.

" _Okay_. Foolish question," he mumbles. His gaze snaps over towards something in the distance which Kamui can't even hear over the rush of blood in his ears. To his surprise, Julian lifts Kamui up into his arms, positioning him into a princess carry, Kamui's head drooping lifelessly against Julian's chest. He can just barely make out Julian mutter, "Lot lighter than I expected," before he takes off running down the nearest alley.

Kamui's brain is fuzzy, a harsh throb surrounding his head. He can't really remember what they're doing, or where they're going, or why. Seems urgent. It was a lot easier to think about how warm Julian's body is, and how great it feels pressed up against him with how intensely cold he feels otherwise. What season was it, again? Why was it so cold?

Eventually, they stop in a darkened alley, Julian crouching down in the shadows, his cape concealing their position. He waits a while before making any moves, peering outside the cape at the edge of the alley. Heaving a relieved sigh, he refocuses on Kamui, propping the man up against the wall.

"Let me see the bite," he says, and Kamui realizes Julian's attempting to pull his hands away; he allows it, wincing in pain as the pressure leaves his side. "You've lost a lot of blood. I'm going to have to lay you down, okay?"

"You're so beautiful," Kamui responds, drunkenly slurring his words. "Your voice is like smooth silk..."

A heated flush spreads across Julian's face, but he does his best to ignore it, remaining all-business. "I'll take that as a yes," he says.

Carefully easing Kamui onto the cobblestone, he reaches for the man's shirt, struggling to pull it free of his sash. Kamui giggles. "First time undressing another man, Jules?"

Julian blushes, embarrassed.

"It's a dress, just cut it," Kamui says, his voice drooping, exhausted.

"A dre...? Oh, yes. I. I see that now," Julian says, catching sight of the identical, fringed fabric under the sash. He pulls a dagger from one of his boots, slicing a clinically straight line into Kamui's shirt to get a look at the bite mark underneath. It's still oozing with blood, with no clear intentions of ever stopping. Julian says as much, more or less, Kamui's eyes fixed on the starry night sky overhead.

Cold hands press into his tortured flesh, causing his body to jolt, not expecting the change in temperature. It feels nice, like an ice pack, alleviating the tension in his muscles and drawing a soft sigh from Kamui's lips. A wave of relaxation washes over him, a much needed reprieve from the mind-numbing pain. It takes longer than it probably should have for him to realize the pain has completely vanished, energy returning to his limbs enough that he's able to push himself up onto his elbows. Julian's hands reach out to steady him, helping him get back up into a sitting position.

Kamui sighs heavily, taking a moment to adjust; to the sudden change in sensation, to the environment, to the background noises, returning to their normal volume, suddenly a lot closer than before. "We've got to stop meeting like this," he says, looking up at Julian with lidded eyes and raised brows.

That draws a laugh from the doctor, and Kamui manages a weak smile, satisfied by his reaction. "You never let anything get to you, do you? You nearly bled out in a dark alley, and yet you're still making light."

Kamui presses a hand against his side, a bit disgusted by the sheer volume of blood that comes away on his hand afterwards. He flicks his hand, using a small fraction of his magic to send the liquid flying off his skin in its entirety, staining the cobblestone and leaving his hand perfectly clean. "It's my natural charm," he says, with a wink.

He's about to inquire into what exactly Julian did, fairly certain that no one with a total lack of magical talent could've sealed a wound like that, when suddenly he notices a faint, pale-blue light in the corner of his vision. He tracks it, spotting an intricately designed mark in the center of Julian's neck, glowing softly. It fades away a few seconds later, but that doesn't stop Kamui from continuing to stare, transfixed.

He reaches out with all the tact of a curious child, surprising Julian when his fingertips graze against the doctor's neck, brushing over his adam's apple. There's a faint tickle of magic, despite the mark's lack of visibility, that isn't there anywhere else on his skin. It's fascinating; why would Julian have this? What was it for?

"You seem surprised," Julian comments, meeting Kamui's curious gaze with a sardonic grin, his head tilted back slightly to allow for Kamui's touch. "I would have thought you'd recognize your own master's handiwork."

The scorn in his voice has Kamui tearing his hand away as if burned. He frowns up at Julian. "Asra? What does he have to do with this?" He knew Asra's magic almost like it was his own—and it felt nothing like this.

"It was his final parting gift to me," he says, "From a witch who fears commitment."

He winces suddenly, biting hard on his bottom lip to conceal a groan of pain. Doubling over, he presses a hand against his side, and Kamui notices for the first time that he's not wearing his gloves anymore; the murderer's brand stands out stark against the pallid skin on the back of his left hand. When he pulls his hand back, it's caked with blood, which drips down the side of his coat, glinting in the moonlight.

Startled, Kamui goes on alert, sitting up on his knees with his hands hovering nearby, as if he could do something to help. "What... what happened?" Was he shot by an arrow, and Kamui hadn't been in the right state of mind to have noticed? Why was he only now reacting to it, then...?

"It's okay, Kamui," Julian says, although it does little to put his nerves at ease. "This is my curse. I can take away a person's injuries like they were never there, and as payment, I bear the brunt of the wound myself." At the flash of horror and panic in Kamui's eyes, he adds, "Don't worry. It will heal much faster than it would have for you—if it healed at all. No one's ever survived the bite of a vampire eel before; save for you, I suppose."

He lets out a shuddering sigh, pressing his hand tighter against the wound. "I've never been bitten by a vampire eel before. Should be interesting," he says, adapting a strained, lopsided smile, the dizziness starting to catch up with him. Kamui automatically reaches out to steady him, despite the fact he hadn't started swaying yet. "Hoooooookay, that—that stings," Julian groans, his head swaying.

Kamui frowns, his eyes wide with alarm. "You're not going to pass out, are you? Because I _cannot_ carry you, the logistics of it just wouldn't work out, and I'd rather not have you arrested because of me."

"You don't have to worry," Julian dismisses. "I'm no stranger to pain. I'm a doctor, remember?"

Kamui scoffs in amusement. "Now who's making light?"

"At least I haven't started flirting with you yet," Julian counters. "Unless you'd prefer to hear all the ways I could compare your beauty to the moon and the stars?"

Warmth spreads across Kamui's face, and he chuckles to rid himself of his nerves. "Mmm, I think I could get used to that," he says, and—was he flirting? Was this flirting? Of all the places to start trying to woo a potential boyfriend, this was probably the worst.

He had gone three years without even thinking about such things, and that was all over, thanks to one incredibly tall gothic plague doctor—and, god, that sounded like a cheap harlequin romance novel. _What is my life becoming?_

Julian goes to open his mouth, hopefully to make good on his word, when the harsh metallic clanging of the guards' armored feet breaks the silence. They both snap their heads in the direction of the noise; they were close, but hadn't quite found them yet. There wasn't enough time to run. Kamui turns to Julian in a panic, struggling to come up with a solution; some type of spell, maybe? A disguise? Or...

Julian reacts before Kamui can, throwing him back against the nearby wall and boxing them in with his cape. In the dead of night it would blend in perfectly, so long as no one got too close.

Speaking of close... their proximity was enough that Kamui could _feel_ Julian's heart beating, if he turned his head at just the right angle. Thankfully the same could not be said for Julian—Kamui was pretty sure his heart was thudding pretty erratically, the borderline intimate closeness between them making his nerves skyrocket. Julian was just so warm, with a strong, firm chest. The overwhelming stench of blood in the air was making him a bit dizzy, too.

He's seconds away from shamelessly snuggling in against Julian's chest in earnest when the doctor starts to pull away, focused entirely on the passing of guards outside the alley. From up close, Kamui can see Julian's face in greater detail, from his soft pink lips to the sharp line of his jaw; there was something to be said about Kamui's feverish flirting, Julian was beautiful. He'd noticed, obviously, but it was just now hitting him in full, now that they were inches apart, crowded together in a dark alleyway.

Julian turns back to Kamui, their eyes catching, Julian's going wide when he realizes Kamui's been staring. Despite his nerves, Kamui returns his gaze, curious to see how he'll react, silently challenging him to do or say something about it.

Even with everything that had happened, Kamui couldn't be sure how Julian actually felt about him; was the attraction mutual? The question certainly wasn't about Julian being interested in men; that part was beyond obvious. No straight man acted like this. But what of Kamui, specifically?

He couldn't even believe this was a thought process he was having, after having nearly bled out, in front of a highly wanted man who was currently bleeding out, more or less. A man who might have murdered the Count. Why didn't that bother him?

Julian's eye drops down to Kamui's lips, lingering; he can feel the man's breath catch, suddenly just as aware of their proximity as Kamui has been. His face reddens, lips pressed into a fine line.

"Kamui—"

Almost immediately the sound of the guards' footsteps can be heard scraping against the cobblestone outside the alleyway, and Julian takes a peek, cursing under his breath. Without a word he grabs onto Kamui's hand, pulling him to his feet and dragging him out the other end of the alley, thudding footsteps echoing behind them.

Julian doesn't bother slowing his pace, the guard's proximity making it too risky. Absently Kamui wonders how the hell he can still run so fast while injured, but it's quickly wiped from his mind as he trips, nearly spraining his ankle, forcibly righting himself so he can keep running. His chest feels overworked; he can't remember the last time he's run this much. Maybe never.

This has to end.

Frantic, he searches the nearby area for anywhere they could hide; an abandoned building, a wood box, anything at all. Eventually he spots an old rusted gate in the distance, covered with overgrown flora, looking like it hadn't been visited in centuries. Bingo.

Yanking on Julian's hand, he veers off to the side, nearly tripping Julian, who hadn't expected the sudden diversion. Thankfully he doesn't question it, trusting Kamui's lead completely. With a quick and inelegant burst of magic, he shatters the locking mechanism, allowing him to push the gate open just enough for them to fit inside before urging it closed.

Kamui finds the nearest surface and sags against it, chest heaving. Meanwhile, Julian seems to be having a considerably easier time, more focused on the gate, paranoid that a guard could come bursting through at any moment. When the clanking of armor merely passes them by entirely, without so much as stopping to check the gate, Julian lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

"That was very subtle," he quips, smirking over at Kamui, who fixes him with a mild look.

" _Oh, thank you, Kamui, for saving our asses, you're truly a god among men,_ " Kamui says, in a poor imitation of Julian's accent that has him snorting with laughter.

"I didn't know there were two of me in here," Julian says, feigning surprise. He crosses the area to stand by Kamui, cupping his chin in one gloved hand to press a kiss to his cheek. Heat floods Kamui's face, more than likely turning him about as red as his eyes, and rendering him speechless. "Thank you for saving me, oh dashing and noble hero," Julian says, with just a hint of humor in his otherwise flirtatious tone.

Kamui's unable to comprehend how to respond to that, remaining in a stunned silence until after Julian has stepped away, investigating the rest of the area. The smug grin that had been on the doctor's face left Kamui feeling slightly challenged, like this was a game of flustering one another that he was determined to win.

And he would. Oh, but he _would_ win.

He follows after Julian, catching sight of the scenery around them for the first time. It was a garden, long since reclaimed by nature, with cracked marble pillars covered in ivy and a dried up water fountain full of fallen leaves and cobwebs. All around the fountain were statues of various beasts, all in different states of disrepair.

"I had no idea a place like this existed in this part of the city," Julian says, marvelling at the collection of statues. Kamui focuses more on the plants, and the various spiders making their homes in the area.

"It's beautiful," Kamui says, reaching out a finger toward a nearby spotted spider, who quickly skitters away.

Julian turns to Kamui with a wide smile. "You sure seem to have a knack for discovering hidden beauty." A wicked grin spreads across Kamui's face.

"You weren't very hidden," he says, reveling in the way Julian's face reddens, his eye widening before his gaze is averted entirely. So easy. Too easy.

Julian sneaks a glance back at Kamui before stepping farther into the garden. He finds his way over to a nearby statue of a bull, regarding it curiously before slinging an arm over its muscular shoulders. "Hello, handsome," he purrs, causing Kamui to huff in amusement. "Now, look at this beast. Quite a dangerous specimen, wouldn't you say?"

Kamui scoffs, striding up to the statue and grabbing the bull by its horns. The marble is rougher than expected, cracked in several places, and the horns are dulled down at the tip. For some reason, he finds this disappointing. He hums.

"Danger doesn't scare me," he says, sounding unimpressed. He shifts, resting his head on the bull's chest and looking up at Julian, catching something akin to interest in the man's eye. "That kind of excitement can really make you feel alive."

Whatever it was he noticed in Julian's eye only grew more intense after he said that, and he finds the man glancing briefly down at his lips before looking away entirely. "You say that, but... do you really know what you're getting into, here?" He steps away from the bull, and Kamui eventually follows.

"I don't really care," Kamui responds, only a little surprised to find that it's the truth. Throughout all of this, being chased by guards, bitten by an exotic fish, nearly bleeding out—all while next to the most highly sought after criminal in Vesuvia. It just didn't phase him. Was it not registering? Or did he just feel so above consequence that he couldn't be bothered to feel fear?

If anything, getting caught with Julian could easily be brushed off as him catching Lucio's killer, considering that's what he had been hired to do in the first place. He didn't _want_ that outcome, the one that got Julian killed. But he wouldn't be joining him, and maybe that was what kept him so levelheaded about this.

Or maybe it was because Julian was ridiculously attractive, and the ever-looming threat of danger that came with him was too thrilling to pass up. Maybe his life was just too boring otherwise.

Did it matter?

He steps closer to Julian, leaning slightly to peer up at the man, drawing his gaze. "Julian, I almost died tonight, and I'm still here, aren't I? You really think I'm scared?"

An incredulous laugh escapes Julian at that. "I shouldn't be surprised. It seems you're full of hidden depths," he says.

Kamui hums, but doesn't respond. He glances down at Julian's coat, where a dark bloodstain drenches the side of his body. It was still dripping. Did it hurt? He sure wasn't acting like it did.

"Oh. Hold still, Kamui," Julian says, drawing Kamui out of his thoughts. For a moment, he almost does the exact opposite, but Julian is swift, plucking a flower from Kamui's shoulder, where it had apparently fallen without his notice. Scarlet eyes are drawn to the flower, which glows a gentle azure, its scraggly petals formed in the shape of a star around its center.

With a charming smile, Julian bows slightly to offer Kamui the flower, like a lover with a rose bouquet. He tries not to let it show how much the gesture affects him, reaching for the flower with his best attempt at a neutral expression. However, Julian moves the flower outside his reach at the last second, tutting.

"Careful, Kamui. There's poison in these petals," he warns.

Kamui raises a brow. "Oh, yeah? What kind of flower is it, then?" It wasn't anything he carried in his shop; not that he tended to keep many poisonous or potentially deadly ingredients, but still. It lacked familiarity for him.

Julian twirls the stem between his fingers. "Deadly starstrand. A single drop of poison distilled from this could kill a babe in its crib."

Distilled?

The flower is held back out in his direction, a challenging glint in Julian's eye. He watches with interest as Kamui snatches the flower from his grasp, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling. The scent was—not like any flower he'd ever seen before. It smelled of rot and decay.

A strange part of him loved it.

"It's not deadly to touch then, is it?"

"Well, I wouldn't eat it, if I were you," Julian responds.

Almost immediately, Kamui brings the flower down to his mouth, baring his teeth as if to chomp down on it. A startled sound makes its way out of Julian's throat, and he reaches out to stop him like a father struggling to keep his infant son from ingesting poison. Kamui moves it out of his reach at the last second, a grin forming on his face and an embarrassed blush on Julian's.

Smile fading, Kamui lets the flower fall from his grasp without a care. A small part of him is thrilled when Julian automatically dives in to grab it before it can touch the ground, reaching out to brush some of Kamui's hair aside to tuck the flower behind his ear. The petals tickle Kamui's cheek.

"Mmm, aren't you charming," Kamui says, a pleased smile appearing on Julian's face. "I suppose danger doesn't bother you either?"

"I live for it," Julian responds with a roguish grin.

Kamui's eyes flicker to the bloodstain on Julian's waist.

"What about pain?" he asks, taking a single step closer. The motion either escapes the doctor's notice, or it just doesn't phase him.

"Why should it? In my line of work, you can't be afraid of a little pain. One might say I have... intimate knowledge of it," Julian says, adopting a suggestive expression for added effect.

Merely raising a brow at Julian's comment, Kamui steps into the doctor's personal space and presses his hand down over the wound, hard, expecting him to jump, to move away.

He does neither.

His breath catches. "Hhhn—A-Are we dancing, now?" Julian's voice is strained, breathless. The pain is clearly still there, yet Julian doesn't move away, not even budging an inch. If anything, he's frozen to the spot. Kamui isn't sure if it's bravado that keeps him there, but he's not going to back down. "You know, I've been known to cut a rug—"

The hand presses in tighter, his thumb digging in against Julian's waist for purchase. Julian gasps, but—the groan that comes out of his mouth after that is distinctly not one of pain. Kamui's eyes widen.

Julian makes another attempt to deflect, talking more about dancing, but Kamui's stopped listening; the doctor takes a step back, and he follows, until Julian's backed up against the nearest wall. A thick pink blush spreads over Julian's cheeks, all the way to his ears, as Kamui keeps increasing pressure, searching for a limit. Some point at which it would be too much.

It never comes.

Knowing approximately where the bite marks would be, Kamui digs his nails in against them. He only wished there were tears in Julian's clothes, so he could feel the marks directly, puncture them with something a bit bigger than teeth. With his nails digging in, Julian's unable to keep up his charade any longer, biting his lower lip in an attempt to conceal the incredibly sexual moan that threatens to escape him. It doesn't work; Kamui hears it loud and clear.

"You like this, don't you?" He speaks in a low, salacious tone of voice. Leaning in closer, he reaches his free hand up to cup the back of Julian's neck, feeling him shudder.

The man is trembling, his legs threatening to collapse out from under him, and he slides down the wall a few inches, as if only held up by Kamui's hand digging in against his side. Fingertips start to pierce through Julian's skin, sending a wave of heat through his body and likely Julian's, too, if the noise he makes is any indication.

"Ohhhh, god—" Julian's fingers claw uselessly at the wall behind him, one of his hands shooting up to grab onto Kamui's shoulder, his grip tight enough to bruise. The thought of him leaving marks is weirdly exciting, and Kamui's next breath comes out unsteady.

"You want this," Kamui says. "You want me to hurt you."

"God, yes," Julian gasps.

Kamui brings his other hand down to Julian's coat, popping open the snaps to get better access to the wound. He doesn't remove the hand at Julian's side for longer than it takes to reach under Julian's loose blouse, quickly relocating the puncture wounds, which are distinctly misshapen. Julian whimpers in anticipation the second Kamui's fingertips graze the wound, becoming exponentially louder when he digs his nails in, tearing skin.

Julian throws his head back, crying out in pain, incidentally baring his neck. Standing on the tips of his toes, Kamui leans in and traps the flesh in the center of Julian's throat between his teeth. Julian arches his back, inadvertently pushing Kamui's fingers in deeper, warm blood pouring over his skin.

"Fffuck—" Julian groans, both his hands gripping onto Kamui's shoulders for dear life, his eye unfocused, pupil blown black.

Carefully, Kamui extricates his teeth from Julian's throat, leaving behind a set of pink marks which he runs his tongue over; Julian's mark flaring to life startles him, the magic vibrating against his tongue, causing the indentations left by Kamui's teeth to fade, like they were never there. It's disappointing, but it's hard to dwell on that with his fingers nearing an inch deep into Julian's flesh.

Resting his head on Julian's chest, he stares down at the wound, gushing blood onto his hand, but. Something else catches his eye. Namely, the rock hard erection tenting Julian's pants.

_Oh. Well then._

Kamui smiles, wiggling his fingers around inside Julian. "You _love_ this, don't you? You love the way my fingers feel inside you, don't you, Julian?"

There's a series of unsteady breaths before Julian manages a response, " _Yes_ —God, yes, please, don't hold back, go deeper—" He cuts off with a loud groan as Kamui forces his fingers in farther, Julian's flesh fighting to keep him out; he wasn't sure how deep the wounds went, but he was about to find out.

Once it seems like he can't get any deeper inside, he pulls back, thrusting his fingers in and out with a wet squelch. It feels strangely lewd and Kamui keeps an eye out on Julian's groin, at the obvious bulge in his pants that leaves very little to the imagination. He wants to rut against it, with his leg, his hand, his dick, anything—but at the same time, he'd love to see how far this could go on pain alone.

Not very far, unfortunately, as the telltale sound of the guards approaching outside the gate startles them both into separating, Kamui nearly tripping over a vine in his haste as the back of Julian's head hits the wall. Panicked, they turn to each other, Julian's visible skin more pink than white at this point, lust clouding his eye with a very hard-to-miss erection in his pants.

"We need to leave," Kamui says, keeping his voice down even though he was pretty sure Julian had been heard all the way down the street already. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Julian nods in assent.

"I—I know somewhere we can go," he says, his hand pressing against his side to stem the flow of blood.

 _Can you even walk, with that?_ Kamui wants to say, but Julian's already grabbing ahold of his hand, tugging him back out onto the streets. Apparently his desire to not die overruled everything else.

They end up heading even farther east, outpacing the guards enough for Julian to stop by a nearby house, pushing open the wooden shutters and climbing inside, tugging Kamui in after him. Julian quickly closes the shutters, yet still ducks down under the nearby counter with Kamui. Although probably unnecessary, they hold their breath until they hear the guards pass them by, long gone down the other end of the street.

Heaving a relieved sigh, the two climb up to their feet, Julian pulling on Kamui's hand to assist him. With a quick thanks, Kamui looks around at the room around them. It's lit up in the warm glow of a nearby fireplace, with rustic decor and hints of magical ingredients scattered about.

"Did we just break in?" Kamui asks, wandering around the room to inspect things at random.

"Well. Yes. _But_ , I know the person who lives here. She should be somewhere around here..." Julian steps farther into the room, calling out a woman's name. Kamui's seconds away from telling him that maybe he should learn to be a bit more careful about volume, when Julian speaks again. "Huh, she's not here. She's usually home around this time..."

"I should hope so," Kamui says, "The streets are pretty dangerous at night. Case in point: I almost died."

Julian scoffs, chuckling. "Oh, no. The streets are much more afraid of her than she is of them, I assure you," he responds, sounding almost like he was bragging. Kamui hums thoughtfully; they must be close.

"Are we allowed to just break into her house?"

"Don't worry about it, Kamui. I do it all the time, and she hasn't thrown me to the sharks yet." Julian steps back over to the window they came in from. "She doesn't appear to be home. Lucky for us, she hates it when I come in through the window."

Kamui smiles, letting out an amused breath. "Is that your trick? I should double check the windows in my shop..."

Squinting, Julian stares at something near the window, his expression quickly morphing into shock, followed by a grimace. "Oh, no," he groans.

Curious, Kamui turns his head to look, spotting a flower pot full of squashed, withering flowers underneath the window. "We stepped on the dragon's breath. I'm in for an earful now," Julian groans, dragging a hand down his face.

As if on cue, the exterior door rattles, before bursting open, admitting a stout woman carrying a basket under her arm. The noise startles Kamui, but not Julian.

"Ilya!" The woman calls, her voice louder and gruffer than Kamui was expecting. "Did you come in through the window again, you slippery boy?"

The woman steps inside the room, shutting the door closed behind her. Julian forcibly straightens his posture, hitting his head on the ceiling with a wince. Not letting that get to him, he assumes a charming grin that's only a little bit forced, swooping down to place a kiss to the much shorter woman's cheek.

"Mazelinka! It's great to see you. And might I say, you look rather ravishing this evening. Love the shawl, is it new?"

In the background, Kamui rolls his eyes.

"You know it isn't," Mazelinka responds flatly, sending him a mild look. "When I saw guards, I had a feeling you'd be here... oh?" She leans to the side, peering past Julian and right at Kamui, who perks up at the sudden attention. "And who might this be?"

Her voice isn't unkind when she says it, so Kamui finds himself relaxing.

"That's Kamui," Julian says, gesturing politely in said man's direction. "He's a new... friend of mine." Kamui raises an eyebrow at the less-than-subtle way he said "friend", like he wasn't sure if it was the right word.

 _Interesting_.

"A new friend, eh? Well, make yourself comfortable, Kamui."

"Thank you, miss," Kamui politely responds, with a slight bow. Julian raises an eyebrow at that, which goes right over Mazelinka's head. She doesn't so much as _acknowledge_ Kamui's statement, heading over toward the counter by the window where she sets her basket down, her eyes landing on the ruined flowers. Cringing, Julian hovers nearby, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Uh, about that," he starts, his words rapidly devolving into an anxious ramble, "It was my fault, I wasn't being careful and I was in a rush, you know how I—"

"Don't fit through the door, I know," Mazelinka sighs. "Do me a favor and hand me that pot." She gestures vaguely towards the item in question, focusing more on the contents of her basket, which Kamui quickly identifies as being filled with a variety of herbs and other reagents.

He turns his gaze on Julian, who offers up a weary smile as he passes by, heading for a nearby cabinet. His steps are unsteady, his body lightly swaying, eyes slightly unfocused. Kamui frowns. Following Julian over to the cabinet, Kamui grabs his outstretched hand, halting his movements; Julian starts, not having expected it. Kamui quickly releases him, setting a hand on his arm instead.

"Show me the bite," Kamui says. He isn't asking, and Julian knows that, immediately reaching down to part his coat and shirt, showing off the deep red patch of blood on the side of his torso. Without thinking Kamui reaches out to touch, feeling Julian jolt beneath his fingertips, but otherwise remain still, allowing Kamui to touch. The once damaged skin was completely smooth now, leaving behind no trace of a wound, not even a scar.

"Well, how does it look? Am I still going to be pretty after this?" Julian asks with a playful smirk.

"You're hideously disfigured, sorry," Kamui sarcastically quips. It makes Julian laugh, which never fails to bring a smile to Kamui's face. "Really, though. It's completely gone. That's quite a spell..."

"Is it so surprising? I would have expected you to recognize your own master's handiwork," Julian says, a bitterness shadowing his tone and expression.

Kamui frowns, pulling his hand back. He wasn't sure where Julian got that idea, that Asra would have done this to him; to a non-magician, explaining that the magic didn't "feel" like Asra's would fall on deaf ears. There were no spells—or curses, as Julian seemed to think it was—like this, to Kamui's knowledge, and he was pretty sure Asra wasn't hiding some dark, black magic secret from him.

Probably.

With Kamui distracted, Julian whisks the pot away towards the fireplace, settling it down inside the hearth. That's when Kamui notices the "pot"—that certainly wasn't the word he would use for it.

Cauldron, more like.

Not long after, Mazelinka excuses herself to another room, noting a missing ingredient she'd find in her garden. That leaves the two men alone together. Julian heaves a sigh, leaning heavily against a nearby dining table.

"I never would have thought a mere bite could take so much out of me," he says. Kamui steps closer, shamelessly sitting on the table directly and leaning forward on his hands.

"Took a lot more out of me. Physically speaking," Kamui says. "I started the night with a lot more blood in my body."

"They're bloodthirsty little creatures," Julian says, a shadow falling over his eyes. He sneers. "They wouldn't even be here at all if not for the Count."

Kamui startles, not having expected to hear Julian bring him up. It feels strange, like it's taboo. The atmosphere around him shifts at the mere mention of the Count, and as much as Kamui wants to change the subject to something a lot more interesting, he hesitates. Maybe... maybe if this, whatever this was, were going to continue...

"Did you do it?" Kamui blurts out. He keeps his expression neutral—an easy task for him—but Julian's face is an open book. There's shock, that Kamui would be so bold as to ask such a thing, trepidation, discomfort. It all gives way to a cynical grin, his gaze averted, which Kamui isn't sure how to interpret—had he pissed him off? Was he overstepping by asking such a thing?

"I'm sorry," Julian starts, chuckling mirthlessly, "It's just, I find myself asking the same question. It's a lot less irritating when you do it." Kamui's brows crease, but he remains silent, patiently waiting for Julian to continue. "Did I do it... if I told you the truth, would you believe me?"

"Yes," Kamui says without hesitation. Julian's eye widens, then narrows, lips pressed into a fine line.

"You shouldn't trust so easily," he warns.

"I could say the same about you," Kamui counters. "Julian, if you were a liar, I'd have to accuse you of overacting."

That gets a laugh, however brief. Julian lays a hand over his heart. "I feel I should be offended." Sitting back atop the short table, he leans forward on his long legs. He sighs, focusing on the warm glow of the hearth, the flames dancing in his eye.

"Did I murder the Count... would you believe me if I told you I don't remember?"

Kamui blinks, surprised. That was pretty far down on his list of things he expected Julian to say. And how was he supposed to react to that—' _There seems to be a lot of that going around_ '? Probably not the most tactful thing to say.

It doesn't matter, though, as Mazelinka returns right around then, preventing Kamui from responding. Nearly right away she begins chiding Julian about his health, lecturing him about sleeping properly. She talks like she's his mom, although Kamui doesn't see even the slightest bit of resemblance between them; not that that really means anything.

"Don't think I don't see you nodding off," Mazelinka gripes, waving a wooden spoon in Julian's general direction. "I'm not carrying you if you fall asleep in my kitchen."

"I'm _fine_ , really," Julian insists. When Kamui turns to look at him, silently following along in their conversation, he catches Julian staring at him behind Mazelinka's back. A cloudy eye traces the line of Kamui's body appreciatively, as if he wasn't aware Kamui was watching. His gaze lifts to Kamui's face, his eye widening as he realizes he's been caught. However, rather than look away, he smiles warmly, creating a fluttery feeling in Kamui's chest. "A lot better than I've felt in a while, actually."

 _Well._ So much for wondering if Julian found him attractive.

Mazelinka sighs, forming the perfect distraction for Kamui to look away, weirdly nervous all of a sudden. She's stood in front of the hearth, mixing something or other in the cauldron. Kamui watches her add a handful of sand to the mixture; he squints, thinking. What recipes called for sand?

It was a nice distraction, anyway, as he could still feel Julian's eye on him. He was doing it on purpose now, Kamui was certain of it.

"I'd be much happier for you if you'd get some sleep," Mazelinka says with a long-suffering sigh.

"After the soup is done," Julian absentmindedly replies. Kamui sneaks a glance, his eye catching on the line of Julian's legs in those tight, black boots he wore, reaching all the way up his thigh. It was unfair, really, how alluring the sight was. He had to know, right? Thigh high boots, on the _outside_ of his pants?

Mazelinka makes an amused, knowing sound. "'After the soup is done'... Well? Do you think you can survive that long without him?"

Julian makes a sound not unlike a dying animal, startled by Mazelinka's suggestion. His gaze snaps away from Kamui, as though he'd been doing something much more criminal than just _looking_. Awkwardly clearing his throat, he manages to respond, sounding oddly small. "...I'll survive."

He pushes up off the table, looking to a curtain hanging nearby, sectioning off a separate room. By default, Kamui raises up to follow him, but Julian grabs his hand, saying, "You're in good hands, Kamui," before heading off by himself, hand slipping away. Kamui's eyes remain on the doctor until long after he's gone, behind the partition, where a small bedroom is waiting.

The sound of Mazelinka sighing snaps Kamui's attention back to her. "He won't do it," she says. Before Kamui can ask what she means, she continues. "He'll be pacing all night unless someone pins him to the bed."

 _Gladly_ , Kamui thinks, just barely holding back on vocalizing that thought. It likely wasn't super appropriate, especially if it turned out Mazelinka was some sort of parent to Julian. Instead, he says, "I'll do it," which, in retrospect, wasn't much better, and based on the way Mazelinka raises a brow at him from over her shoulder, she didn't think it was, either.

"Suit yourself," she says, waving a hand dismissively while turning back to the cauldron. "Go check on him. I'll be watching the brew. Won't be much longer."

Kamui nods, pushing up off the table and heading over to the partition, parting it to get a look inside. The alcove was bathed in candlelight, with a single bed and a wooden end table, a lit candle settled atop it. Julian perches on the edge of the bed, divested of all but his eyepatch, shirt, pants, and one of his boots, which he was currently working on removing.

"Ah, Kamui. Come to tuck me into bed?" He asks, a playful smile on his face as he regards the magician. Letting the curtain fall closed behind him, Kamui steps farther into the room, maneuvering past the messy pile of Julian's clothes all over the floor.

"Mmm, I could think of a lot more things to do in a bed," Kamui says, keeping his voice down, hyper-aware of Mazelinka's presence in the other room. He bends down to pick Julian's coat up off the floor, repositioning it to get a look at the bloodstain.

Julian kicks off his remaining boot, leaning back on the bed invitingly. "Hmm, why don't you come show me some of those things?"

The sight sends a jolt of electricity through him, but Kamui pretends otherwise, chuckling lowly as he says, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Rather than take the obvious bait, he focuses his magic on Julian's coat, drawing the still-damp blood from the fabric until its completely clean. Afterwards, he makes a flicking gesture with his hand, evaporating all the blood into a fine mist, which dissipates shortly after. Carefully folding the coat, he hangs it from the headboard nearby, catching Julian staring at him with a look of surprise.

"What?"

"That was... a rather convenient trick," Julian says, sounding impressed. His somewhat unconventional praise is enough for Kamui to overlook the use of the word "trick". An amused smile forms on Julian's face as he glances over his coat, now neatly folded and properly tucked away.

"I just," Kamui starts, suddenly a little too aware of how strange it must have looked, to just waltz in and pick up after Julian like he was his dad, or something. "It's a nice coat. Blood isn't an easy stain to get rid of normally." He turns from the coat back to Julian, his eyes finding the significantly more obvious blood stain on Julian's undershirt. Without thinking about it, he says, "Take off your shirt," while holding out a hand expectantly.

Surprised, but amused nonetheless, Julian reaches for the buttons on his shirt, doing exactly as he was told. Chuckling, he says, "You know, Kamui, if you wanted to get me naked, you could have just asked."

Bold, Kamui replies, "I could _tell_ you to strip, and you would."

A deep blush spreads across Julian's face at that comment, his fingers slipping. He doesn't deny it.

Eventually he manages to get the buttons on his shirt dealt with, pulling it out of his waistband and slipping his arms free before handing it off to Kamui. Devious, he not only purposefully brushes against Julian's hands as he reaches out to take it, feeling him tremble slightly, but his eyes roam across Julian's bare torso with interest, not bothering to be subtle about it. Julian's eye widens, watching Kamui run his tongue between his lips before looking away.

He leans back against the wall, more or less ignoring Julian as he works at getting the blood out. It was a lot easier, working not only with silk, but with fresher blood; it flows out of the fabric as easily as water would. Truth be told, he was still focusing on Julian, just a little bit; watching him fidget from out of the corner of his eye, a little self conscious, yet trying not to be at the same time.

Mazelinka chooses that time to enter the room, a steaming bowl of brew in her hands. Her brown eyes land directly on Julian, topless with a noticeable patch of blood on his torso, before shifting to Kamui, casting obvious magic on Julian's shirt. She raises a brow, but doesn't comment on anything.

Absently Kamui wonders if this is something she's used to—Julian coming to her with injuries, or rather, the remnants of them. He lived a dangerous life, that much went without saying.

The bowl is deposited in Julian's hands, not needing any prodding at all to get him to accept it. He smiles up at her with gratitude, although she just shrugs him off when he tries to thank her.

She turns to Kamui, hands on her hips. "I suppose you'll be staying?" she asks. He notes that she doesn't seem annoyed at the prospect, so he nods, responding in the affirmative.

Smiling, he says, "Someone's gotta make sure he gets some sleep, right?"

Mazelinka scoffs, amused. "Glad to see he's got some good influences in his life," she says.

Inwardly, Kamui can't help but laugh. Oh, if only she knew the things he'd done, the things they'd both done together. The things he wanted and intended to do later.

Their conversation cuts off there, with the sound of Julian nearly choking on the brew, drawing the attention of both the room's other attendants. "Oh, it's _that_ kind of soup, is it," Julian says flatly.

"It is, and you'll drink every last drop," Mazelinka counters, with the kind of tone that says there'd be hell to pay if he doesn't. Kamui smiles, glancing between Mazelinka's no-nonsense expression and Julian's almost childish look of indignance.

Eventually Mazelinka snatches the bowl up from Julian, offering it up to Kamui instead. Surprised, he quickly finishes cleaning off Julian's shirt before setting it aside, atop his coat. Accepting the brew, he looks down at the woman questioningly.

"Make sure he drinks it, will you? I get the feeling he'll take whatever you give him," she says. Kamui tries not to blush too deeply at the double meaning behind her words. She leaves right afterwards, ignoring Julian's words of protest. As soon as she's gone, a yawn breaks its way out of Julian's throat, and Kamui can't help but snicker.

He looks down at the brew; lifts it up to his face, smelling it. Almost immediately, he recognizes the recipe.

"She makes that for me whenever I'm having trouble sleeping," Julian explains. "Works every time, bless her."

Kamui hums. _Yeah, I bet it does,_ he thinks, but decides to keep it to himself, to let Julian think it was some weird folk remedy. He looks over at Julian, who rests back on his hands. Raising a brow, he grins devilishly up at Kamui.

"It also tastes fantastic," he says, luridly swiping his tongue across his lips. Feigning disinterest, Kamui's eyes lid, looking distinctly unimpressed, but it doesn't phase Julian in the slightest.

Staring down at the line of his rosy lips, an idea starts to form in Kamui's mind. He lingers on the thought just long enough to formulate a plan, before setting the bowl on the table nearby.

Julian watches him, the smug grin still on his face. Propping a knee up on the bed to Julian's right, Kamui meets his gaze, reaching up to press a hand to the side of Julian's cheek, beneath his fringe. He leans into the touch like he craves it, eye drooping closed with a pleased sigh. Kamui rubs his thumb across Julian's cheek, gently massaging him, the tip of his fingernail grazing Julian's eyepatch.

He only lets it continue for a few seconds before threading his fingers into Julian's auburn curls, roughly tilting his head back. Julian's eye flies open, but he doesn't get much reaction time before Kamui dives in, crashing their lips together. Julian gasps against Kamui's mouth, surprised; he tastes of salt and iron, spurring Kamui on, hand tightening around Julian's curls.

Julian kisses back ravenously, letting go of pleased sighs every time their lips part. He wraps his arms around Kamui's shoulders, pulling him in closer, groaning as Kamui scrapes his nails against Julian's scalp.

Reluctantly, Kamui pulls away, Julian chasing after him. Kamui chuckles, hand tightening around Julian's curls to keep him held at a distance. "So eager," he says, speaking lowly to prevent his voice from carrying outside the room.

Julian looks up at him with lust in his eyes, a fine dusting of pink coating his cheeks. He looks like he might melt at any second, completely vulnerable. It makes Kamui want to take advantage of him, but instead, he pulls away, slipping out from under Julian's arms to reach for the brew. He almost laughs at the sound of Julian's disappointed whine, one of the doctor's hands reaching out as if to try and pull him back.

"Where are you going?" Julian asks, his voice coming out a bit dazed.

"Hmm, wouldn't you like to know," Kamui teases, lifting the bowl up and repositioning himself so he's straddling Julian's hips. Like the absolute prick he is, he grinds down on Julian's lap, hearing the man groan but blatantly ignoring it. "Comfy," he says, teasing.

"You're trying to kill me," Julian says, his face flushed all the way to his ears, fingers grasping the sides of Kamui's jacket. In response, Kamui just laughs, raising the bowl up to his lips and blowing gently. "What are you doing?"

"Feeding you," he says, like it's obvious. Before Julian gets a chance to say anything else, Kamui brings the bowl up to his lips and tips it back, letting the brew linger on his tongue. He sets the rest of it aside before turning back to Julian, cupping his face in his hands. He watches a look of confusion morph into understanding, a smirk spreading across Julian's face.

"Ah. So that's your game," Julian says. Kamui steels his expression, gripping onto the back of Julian's hair to tilt his head back.

It's messy, a bit of the brew trickling down their chins, but it's an amazing excuse to have his tongue in Julian's mouth, the intrusion drawing a low, gasping moan from his throat. The magic tickles Kamui's tongue and he keeps his hold on Julian a bit longer than strictly necessary, pulling back in time to allow the man to swallow the brew.

Unable to resist, Kamui presses a kiss to the corner of Julian's mouth, brushing their cheeks together, reveling in the warmth of his heated skin. Julian lets out a pleased sigh at the contact, hands grasping onto the front of Kamui's coat.

And that's when Kamui pulls away, reaching again for the brew.

"Kamui, _please_ ," Julian nearly begs, frustration evident in his voice.

"What? I have one job, and it's this," Kamui says neutrally.

"I can think of a few other jobs for you." Julian waggles his eyebrows seductively. It's hard not to laugh, or to at least smile, but Kamui somehow manages to pull it off. Trying not to let his near-slip up show, he roughly grips onto Julian's jaw, a thumb pressing into his lower lip, parting them.

"It's not up to you," Kamui says, eyes fixated on Julian's lips. It has the intended effect of wiping Julian's smug grin off his face, replaced with one of surprise. "Now, be a good boy and wait patiently."

Julian's eyelids droop, and he bites his lip to cover up a soft moan. "I'll behave," he breathes, a needy undercurrent to his tone. The sound does something to Kamui that couldn't be seen past his dress shirt.

Pouring more of the brew into his mouth, he lifts Julian's head up by the chin, lightly brushing his skin with his thumb, just to draw out the process a little longer. Unlike before, Julian more-or-less sits still, keeping a close eye on Kamui's movements.

When he finally decides to show Julian some mercy, the man groans beautifully, reaching up to thread his fingers into Kamui's hair. The feeling of Julian's hands combing through his hair draws a soft sigh from him, and he returns the gesture, just with a bit more clawing.

When he pulls away this time, he traces the line of liquid that's dripped from Julian's mouth with his tongue, licking his own lips as he leans back. He doesn't allow Julian the chance to recover this time, instantly going back for more, although the result is a bit messier than usual. This was a lot harder than it looked; although Julian didn't seem to care.

A bit of the concoction drips down past Julian's collarbone, sliding between the planes of his chest. Kamui doesn't even think about it before grabbing Julian's hair, tilting his head back and dragging his tongue up the line of liquid, lapping it up, feeling Julian tremble. His hand tightens around the bed-sheets, shuddering with a sinful gasp as Kamui continues all the way up his neck, stopping to bite down on his jaw.

"Ohhh, _god_ —"

Licking his lips, Kamui dives back in to crash his lips into Julian's, tasting magic. Julian eagerly reciprocates, one hand keeping himself propped up on the bed, the other pressed against Kamui's neck. Kamui trails his hands down Julian's chest, pausing to feel his heart beating erratically against his chest, before lowering them down to—

"Alright, enough of that."

The two forcibly part, Kamui ending up pressed back against the headboard in his haste to get away. They spot Mazelinka standing by the partition, a pile of blankets in her arms which she throws like a fisherman casting a net, covering the both of them.

"Go to sleep, you two," she says, stepping back out of the room.

Kamui pulls the blanket off his head, his hair a total mess as a result. His heart is threatening to burst right out of his chest; he wasn't expecting to get walked in on. God, why did he have to do something like that right in front of what was possibly Julian's mom or aunt or something? What must she think of him now?

He hears a shuffling sound nearby, watching Julian pop up from under the blankets right next to him. Folding his arms on the pillow, he lays his head over them, peering up at Kamui. "Well. That was something," he says. Kamui fixes him with a flat look.

"That was humiliating," Kamui complains. He maneuvers his legs out from under the blankets, bothered by his shoes being on the bed. Rolling his pant legs up, he pulls the laces free on his boots, shucking them off as quickly as he can manage. Julian leans up on his elbows, watching him.

"Oh, thigh-high boots, huh? What a pleasant surprise."

Kamui scoffs. "Yeah, we match. Who knew?"

Julian wraps his arms around Kamui's torso. "I'd love to see you in thigh high boots," he says. "Without your pants in the way."

"I'd love to see _you_ in thigh high boots, without your pants," Kamui counters with a smug grin. Julian grins.

"I like the way you think."

Kamui moves on to taking off the rest of his clothes, removing his scarf before working on his sash, which Julian swoops in to help out with, impatient, apparently deeming Kamui's movements too slow for his liking. Everything gets folded up neatly and draped over the headboard; he takes special care of the emerald, making sure it remains safe wrapped up inside his scarf. Once there's nothing left but Kamui's pants, Julian lays in his lap, leaning up to kiss the bare skin above the waistline of his pants.

Julian hums. "What can I do to convince you to take these off?" he asks, tugging lightly at Kamui's waistband.

Kamui considers it—both his willingness to undress to that extent, in someone else's house, with someone he'd only met within the past week, and the logistics of what would likely happen next, _in someone else's house_ , where they could get caught the second Julian opens his mouth. And Julian was anything but quiet, if the garden were any indication.

Then again, he was also agitating an extremely painful wound, so maybe Julian could be forgiven for not controlling his volume. Kamui could barely hear at all when he was the one experiencing it.

"How far away is Mazelinka's room?" Kamui asks. The question brings a mischievous grin to Julian's face.

"Far enough," he says, popping open the top button on Kamui's pants. Exhaling in amusement, he moves to lean back against the headboard, Julian following after him. He pulls Kamui's pants down over his hips, and he raises up to help remove them, but stops Julian before he can toss the garment onto the floor, carefully draping them next to the rest of his clothes.

Kamui wraps his arms around Julian's back, using his full weight—which wasn't a lot—to flip Julian onto his side, so they could lay face to face more comfortably. He snakes his arms around Julian's back, clutching onto him with just a hint of nails, burrowing into the curve of Julian's neck and pressing their bodies flush against each other.

He lowers his hands, fingering the waistband of Julian's pants. "Hmm, I think you're forgetting something," Kamui says. "Or should I tear them off of you myself?"

Kamui can feel the imprint of Julian's grin against his forehead, fingers combing through his hair. "Do your worst."

Chuckling, Kamui leans forward to kiss the closest part of Julian he can reach. "I sure hope you don't regret saying that," he says. He pulls back, angling his head to draw Julian into a kiss, which he eagerly reciprocates. Without much effort Kamui undoes the front of Julian's pants, smoothing his hands over bony hips to slide them down the back of the doctor's briefs, squeezing.

"Frisky," Julian quips, before Kamui draws him back into a kiss. Cold hands roam over Kamui's back, while he massages the doctor's backside. With no warning he drags both his pants and briefs down in one, baring Julian's lower half to the open air.

"Whoops," Kamui says, feigning innocence. "Snagged. Honest mistake."

Julian laughs, leaning his forehead against Kamui's. "Devious. Should I return the favor, then?"

Tossing Julian's clothes carelessly onto the floor—and boy, does he look scandalized by that—Kamui reaches for the blanket, covering them up lest Mazelinka decide to barge in again. Settling back in, he immediately curls a hand around Julian's dick, finding him half hard, the sensation new but very interesting. Julian jolts a bit on contact, biting his lip to keep quiet.

"Hurry up, then," Kamui urges. "And don't pass out, or I'll smother you in your sleep."

"Between your thighs, I hope," Julian cheekily retorts, causing Kamui to snort in amusement.

"You could only be so lucky."

Julian tugs Kamui's briefs down, making an attempt to toss them onto the floor only to be stopped by Kamui's free hand. They're placed up by Kamui's pants, instead. "So finicky," he teases.

"My clothes are expensive," he gripes, tugging lightly on Julian's dick to draw the doctor's attention away from his vanity. "Now, be a good boy and touch me, already."

Julian groans, turning red. "Yes, sir," he says—it would sound like a joke, if not for Kamui's hand stroking his dick, distracting him. Kamui exhales sharply.

"I like the sound of that," he says, his free hand tightening around the nape of Julian's neck to draw him into a kiss.

A rough and larger-than-his-own hand wraps around his dick, stroking experimentally; it feels so different from anything he's ever done on his own that he can't help but gasp, hips stuttering. He can feel the resulting grin against his lips. Julian's hand is a lot more well-practiced than Kamui's; he has a bit of trouble translating the sort of thing he normally does by himself onto someone else. He's a touch desperate not to let it show—focusing on the feel of Julian's hot, hard dick in his hand, the noises he makes, the way he twists his hips and gasps when Kamui touches him just the right way, adjusting his movements accordingly.

Anything to look more experienced than he is.

Kamui moves the hand he has on Julian's neck down to his hip, intending to pull him closer, to grind into his lap. The second he removes his hand from Julian's dick to assist with that, the doctor whines, pleading.

"Oh, _please_ ," Julian gasps, words dripping from his mouth seemingly outside of his control. "Don't—Why did you stop?"

"Needy, aren't you?" Kamui chuckles. Julian attempts to grind against Kamui's body, but his hands on the doctor's hips prevent him from doing so, eager to hear him beg. It gives him a surge of confidence he wasn't so sure he had before.

Julian's fingers twist, stroking Kamui's shaft between two fingers, rubbing his thumb over the head in such a way that has Kamui's breath stuttering, hips twisting eagerly. He's trying harder to please him, Kamui realizes. It just causes him to hesitate even more, loving listening to Julian beg, curious to see how far he'll go if he thinks he has to please Kamui to get what he wants.

"So eager to please," Kamui chuckles. "I'd say, 'suck me off', but—"

His phrasing clearly doesn't register, as Julian immediately starts kissing down his body, disappearing under the blanket. Kamui's eyes widen—he wasn't being serious, but that doesn't stop Julian from nestling against his thigh, lightly grasping Kamui's dick, holding him up while a warm tongue slides up the side of his shaft, sucking eagerly at the tip. Kamui's thighs twitch, not at all expecting how it would feel.

"Ohhh, fuck—" he groans, throwing his head back. Julian repeats the motion, over and over, before taking Kamui into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks. One of Kamui's hands twists into Julian's hair like his life depended on it. He can feel Julian moan, the sound vibrating against his skin.

" _Fffffuck_ , that feels amazing," Kamui rambles, inadvertently jutting his hips forward, deeper into Julian's mouth. "You feel so good, _Julian_ —"

It has Julian moaning louder, and Kamui can't help but feel like it sounds incredibly lewd, all the noises he's making, burning Kamui up inside. Julian shifts the angle of his head, and when he moves back down, Kamui can feel the tip of his dick hit the back of Julian's throat. He jolts, his legs tightening around Julian without meaning to.

He gets a little carried away. Tightening his grip in Julian's hair, fucking into his mouth, relishing in the sounds Julian makes. He's dizzy with it, his eyes falling shut, focusing entirely on the way Julian's mouth feels wrapped around his dick. It doesn't take long at all before he can feel himself getting close, and he tugs on Julian's curls.

"Stop, stop," Kamui breathes, feeling Julian lift off his dick with an audible _pop_. He crawls up to the front of the bed, appearing from out beneath the blanket. His skin is colored a vivid scarlet, from his ears to his shoulders, lips wet and swollen.

"Wh-What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" Julian asks. In response, Kamui grips his shoulders, flipping him onto his back and crashing their lips together. He tastes himself on Julian's lips; it's a unique experience, to say the least.

Pulling away, he says, "You're so fucking hot, Julian." He presses his lips against the heated skin of Julian's cheek. Leaning down by his ear, he adds, "I'm going to fuck you until you see stars."

"Oh god," Julian gasps, Kamui's hand slipping down between his legs and teasing a finger against his entrance. "Ohhh god—please, use me, _use me_ , however you want, please—"

"Sshhh. Be patient, Jules," Kamui says, pressing his lips against Julian's to keep him quiet. It was clear the man had no concept of his own volume anymore, and the last thing he wanted was for them to get caught.

Kamui focuses his magic on his hand; he'd done this before, just not. While with someone else. His concentration is a little off, but eventually, he can feel something coating his fingers, his skin slick against Julian's entrance. He startles a little at the change in texture.

"What did you—Ohhh fuck... hhhnn..."

Kamui pushes a finger inside, feeling Julian tighten around him. Gasping, Julian curls his legs tighter around Kamui, arms wrapping around the magician's shoulders, one hand in his hair. Slowly at first, Kamui urges his finger in and out, feeling Julian start to relax.

"Pl-Please, more," Julian pleads. "I can take a lot more than—Ohhh—"

Kamui slips another finger inside, picking up the pace as he thrusts his fingers inside of Julian, hearing the man whimper and moan right by his ear. His fingers brush up against something that causes Julian to jolt, sinking his teeth into Kamui's shoulder to keep quiet. Curious, Kamui torturously drags his fingers across it, feeling Julian writhe beneath him, pitiful noises making their way out of him despite his attempts to muffle his voice.

"Kamui, I—I'm—I can't—"

"Don't cum, Julian," Kamui says, voice low, intimidating, "You do, and this all ends. Got it?"

In response, Julian whines pitifully, nails digging into Kamui's shoulder. He had no delusions that Julian was at all capable of following his order; he moves his free hand down to wrap around the base of Julian's dick, squeezing. He gasps, squirming.

Kamui presses a kiss to his neck, whispering in his ear, "Be patient, baby." The endearment seems to go over really well, if the noise Julian makes is any indication. Kamui chuckles, kissing wherever he could reach.

He pushes in another finger, slowly stretching Julian, the man's hips struggling to push Kamui in deeper, faster. Every time he brushes up against Julian's prostate he tightens his hold on Julian's dick, just to be sure.

When he inevitably pulls out, Julian whines at the loss of contact. Kamui takes his hand off the man's dick, wrapping his arm around one of Julian's thighs instead.

Positioning himself at Julian's entrance, he can feel Julian's breath hitch in anticipation. Kamui takes a second to slick up his dick before plunging inside; Julian moans brokenly against his mouth, nails digging into Kamui's back. He pauses to take a moment to steady himself, breathing deeply against Julian's cheek before he starts to move.

"Fuck, fuck," Julian groans, before Kamui can get a chance to silence him with a kiss. The doctor trembles, exhaling blissfully through his nose. It doesn't take long at all before Julian starts to push back against him, hungry for more; Kamui picks up the pace, Julian's hand tightening around ivory stands of hair.

"Don't hold back," he breathes.

Well. _If you say so._

Kamui pulls almost all the way out before shoving roughly back in, causing Julian to gasp, inadvertently biting Kamui's lip. "Oh, _god_ , do that again," he begs, and Kamui is happy to oblige, bucking inside of him as Julian gasps and moans.

Hands grip roughly at Julian's hips as Kamui pounds into him with reckless abandon. Smokey eyes water, hands trembling, the few sounds that were making their way out of him past Kamui's rough kisses ragged and pitiful.

Before long, Kamui can feel himself getting close. Stumbling over his words, he attempts to warn Julian, and somehow he understands exactly what Kamui's trying to say.

"Do it," Julian breathes, tightening his fingers in Kamui's hair, "Fuck—Please, _Kamui_ , I need it—"

It hardly takes all that long afterwards before Kamui cums, nails splitting open the skin on Julian's shoulders as he bites down hard on Julian's neck, muffling his voice. Something about it, perhaps all of it, has Julian quickly joining him, nearly screaming before Kamui has a chance to cover his mouth. Once he's completely spent, Kamui collapses on top of Julian, not expecting exactly how exhausted he'd feel, like it was all hitting him at once; the bite, the running, the sex. He clings to Julian's chest, not caring in the slightest about the sticky mess between them. Julian struggles for breath, arms limp around Kamui's shoulders, boneless, thighs twitching.

Kamui nuzzles in against Julian's chest. He sees Julian's mark flare out of the corner of his eye, and is briefly worried before it occurs to him that he left claw marks behind, marks which were likely gone by now. As his head starts to clear he feels a stinging pain on his back and realizes Julian had done the same.

His face reddens. This, this had really just happened. There was physical evidence. He'd experienced getting clawed in the back while fucking another man, that happened. It sure, it sure did happen.

He raises up to look down at Julian, his arms weary. For a moment he just stares, wordlessly, at Julian's flushed, dizzy face, his red lips swollen, pupil dilated. He looks beautiful in a way Kamui's not creative or eloquent enough to describe. Instead, he kisses him, hoping it conveys even a fraction of how he feels. Julian more-or-less wraps his full body around Kamui, just as eager to be close, and Kamui chuckles fondly.

"What a treasure you are," Kamui breathes, punctuating his statement with a kiss to the corner of Julian's mouth. For awhile, they just lie there, kissing and exchanging gentle touches, Julian's body warm beneath him. It feels like heaven.

Julian presses a kiss to the side of Kamui's face. "As much as I hate being the voice of reason," he starts, "We shouldn't go to sleep like this."

"I guess," Kamui groans, too tired to want to move. Julian chuckles, reaching overhead for his shirt, only for Kamui to immediately slap his hand away. "Not with that, it's silk! Don't use your clothes, you degenerate."

"Oh, I'm a degenerate now, am I?" Julian's lips quirk into a grin.

"Which one of us was it that got hard from having a gaping wound in their torso fingered?"

Julian nearly chokes, turning red. "You. You noticed that?" He pauses to drag a hand down his face, embarrassed. "Oh god, of course you noticed that. Why wouldn't you?"

"Kinda hard to miss, in those pants." Kamui raises an eyebrow. "I don't doubt that even the guards saw you, in that state."

Julian's blush deepens, his breath getting caught in his throat. Kamui's eyes widen.

"Oh my god, that turns you on, doesn't it?"

Averting his gaze, Julian stutters, "I—I, well."

Kamui straddles Julian's hips, caressing his cheeks, a thumb pressing against Julian's bottom lip with just a hint of nail. "You're amazing, you know that? So, so good, Julian," he purrs, watching as Julian's eye lids, a shuddering breath passing his lips. "You like that? Do you want to be good for me, Julian?"

"Yes," Julian replies almost immediately, parting his lips to let Kamui slip his thumb inside.

"You're so easy," Kamui says, and Julian groans; chuckling, Kamui prods at the inside of his mouth with his thumb. "God, you like that too, don't you? Which do you like more: being my good, obedient boy, or my _slut_?"

It's a bit hard to understand with Kamui's thumb invading his mouth, but the moan of "oh god" Julian makes doesn't escape Kamui's notice. He can't help but smile, a dark look in his eye.

"I think I'll use both," he muses. He pulls his hand away, pressing a kiss to the corner of Julian's mouth. The doctor's arms wrap around him, clinging, and he laughs. "You know what? I think I'll keep you."

Julian swallows thickly, his breaths unsteady. "K-Keep me?"

Kamui lightly wraps a hand around Julian's neck, causing the man to freeze up. "You know what I mean, don't you?"

He pulls his hand back, watching Julian start to breathe again, and threads it through Julian's hair instead. "You're devious," Julian says, breathless. Kamui just smiles.


	2. The Lovers - Part II

The sound of a door closing nearby draws Kamui out of the realm of dreams. He groans, a bit irritated to find it was still dark in the room; it was way too early for this. Didn't Asra know how to close doors properly? No, that wasn't fair; it wasn't his fault Kamui slept like he thought he would be killed in the middle of the night.

Maybe he'd be coming back to bed soon. It always did get too cold without him around, which was. Often. And everyday it seemed like the lengths of his trips just got longer and more frequent. They seemed to be doing fine, so why was he so eager to leave?

Ugh—it was too early to be having so many emotions. Especially now; it was better to appreciate the time they spent together, rather than just stewing in bitterness all the time. _Story of my life._

He goes to stretch out his limbs, a little too aware that he wasn't going to be falling back asleep so easily—maybe a walk around the shop was in order—when his hands make contact with something distinctly fleshy. He freezes. Who was that? Why was there a warm body in bed with him? He shifts, becoming starkly aware of the fact that he was naked; he never slept in such a state of undress, what was—

_Julian._

Right, he wasn't at the shop at all. The door, that was probably just Mazelinka, going to work or something. The body lying next to him was Julian, they had gone to bed together, and... well. They had. _Slept_ together, in more than one sense of the word. Kamui can feel his face heating up at the mere thought of it.

_Well. It was bound to happen eventually..._

He had the distinct feeling that wasn't _actually_ his first time, but he had no frame of reference to prove that it wasn't. Still, though, at his age, with his appetite? There must have been someone.

Still. Julian was... technically. His. First.

And he was definitely not going to tell him that, not anytime soon. He might burst into flames, or something.

Speaking of Julian, he was currently facing away, towards the wall. It was a bit curious, that Kamui hadn't noticed him moving away, but it could easily be attributed to him being too tired to remember or even notice. It was preferable to thinking there were more gaps in his memory.

He goes to move in closer, wrap an arm around him, when Julian starts to stir. Kamui freezes, for whatever reason; it wasn't like he shouldn't be here, or wasn't allowed to touch him, but something about this had him holding back. For a second he thinks it might have been a fluke, or him seeing things in the dark, but then Julian tenses, his head lowering down past the line of his shoulders.

"N-No, wait—" Kamui barely recognizes the sound of Julian's voice, strained and choked out, like he was in the middle of crying. Wait, was he? "This wasn't supposed to happen—"

"Julian?" Frowning, Kamui props himself up on an elbow, reaching out toward Julian's shoulder, but stopping just shy, hesitating. Would he... want to be touched right now?

"Sorry, I'm sorry—I didn't know—"

Doesn't matter. Kamui reaches out to jostle Julian's shoulder, not expecting it when the man jolts, twisting out of his reach like he was being attacked. "Julian, it's just me!"

Julian wakes with a sharp intake of breath, turning onto his stomach to face Kamui, his silver eye wide. It takes him a moment to adjust, before he drops his head onto the pillow with a sigh. Kamui shifts, moving in closer, wrapping an arm around Julian as best he could; his skin was slick with sweat, body trembling.

"Sorry," Julian says, his voice low and thick with sleep. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"I was already awake." Kamui curls in closer, their faces inches apart. "Are you okay? You're shaking."

"Shaking? Me? Nonsense," Julian deflects, forcing a smile. "I'm a doctor, my hands are as sure as death and taxes."

Kamui reaches his free hand out for Julian's, where it rests not far from the doctor's face. His hand was shaking like a leaf—whatever his dream about been about, it had clearly shaken him to his core. Julian attempts to pull his hand away, but Kamui tightens his grip.

"Please tell me the truth," Kamui says earnestly. It was hard to tell in the dark, but something about Julian's expression just looked so guilty.

"It's—nothing," Julian tries. "Just a dream. It wasn't real. It's nothing to get worked up over."

"You already are, so I'd say it is," Kamui counters. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'm just worried. You were talking in your sleep, you sounded upset."

"I was...?" Julian bites his lip, cringing. "Well, that's embarrassing. It—I, well." He hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip. Kamui waits patiently, not wanting to stress him out any more than he already is.

"Do you..." Julian starts, his gaze fixed on the bed beneath them, "Do you believe in forgiveness?"

The question takes Kamui by surprise. "That's... quite a question for this early in the morning," he says, chuckling nervously. "Um... I suppose I do? What's the context here, Jules?"

There's no response to his question, leaving Kamui guessing—was this about the murder? Or was there some other crime Julian thought he was guilty of, maybe one more interpersonal than treason? Julian hesitates, mulling over something in his head, before speaking once more.

"Do you think... that even truly heinous crimes could be forgiven? Or are there some things that you just don't get to walk away from?"

 _Pretty sure the city guard won't let you walk away from murder,_ Kamui wants to say, but bites his tongue. This was the wrong mood for joking around. And, more than that—something about this felt less literal, less like an actual violation of the law and more personal. Whatever it was, Julian clearly didn't feel inclined to share any details on it.

Kamui chews on the inside of his cheek. This was... tough. Rather than ponder over what the right answer could be, over what Julian would want to hear, he does his best to speak from the heart.

"I think it depends on your definition of 'heinous'," Kamui says carefully. "If someone killed someone I loved in cold blood, I don't think I'd ever forgive them. Or, you know, some people like to fuck kids, Julian, and I don't think they deserve forgiveness, much less a continued existence, so—yeah, it depends? Can I ask what the context is here, or is that too personal?"

Julian sighs, looking downcast. "I wish I had an answer for you, but I... I truly can't remember. I just know that I—I had to have done _something_. If only I could remember what it was, I'd know if it was truly unforgivable."

"Well... if it turned out that you did do something, what would you do about it?"

"I'd do anything I could to make it right," Julian says, without hesitation. "And if I can't... I'll take whatever punishment I deserve."

Kamui hums, thoughtful, before leaning down to press a kiss to the back of Julian's hand. He peers up at Julian through long, white lashes. "You're a good person, Julian."

Julian looks away. "I don't know about that." Before Kamui can say anything to refute his statement, Julian forces a smile, saying, "Well. Isn't this this a dour conversation. Don't mind me, Kamui, it's just the sleep deprivation talking."

Kamui frowns, dissatisfied. He wanted to help, but at the same time, was there really anything he could do? Maybe his answer wasn't good enough. Maybe no answer would have been good enough. It was a little outside Kamui's range of emotional support, anyway; how could he relate to any of this?

But... if words weren't working, maybe he could try something else.

With a final kiss to the back of Julian's hand, he pulls away, shifting to lay higher on the bed. Julian watches him curiously, and a little nervously. He settles back in, lying on his back and pulling Julian's head onto his chest; the doctor goes willingly, putting up absolutely zero resistance.

Despite that, he's horribly tense, holding onto a breath while having trouble figuring out where to put his hands. He eventually settles them on Kamui's hips, before changing his mind and laying them on Kamui's waist instead.

"Julian, relax," Kamui says.

"Right. Sorry."

He does his best to relax his body, stretching out his legs over the edge of the bed. Kamui glances down at where Julian's feet stick out from under the blanket; his toenails are painted black, like his fingernails. Smiling, Kamui starts brushing his fingers through Julian's curls, lightly pulling out tangles.

"Jules," Kamui starts, making sure he has Julian's attention, "Can you hear my heart beating?"

Julian repositions his head slightly, pressing an ear over Kamui's heart.

"This usually helps when—" _Asra is upset_ , he means to say, but holds back; Julian didn't really like him, did he? Probably a bad time to be bringing him up. "It's comforting," he says instead. "Maybe now you can get some sleep."

There's a soft sigh from Julian as he settles in further, wrapping an arm around Kamui's torso. "Thank you," he says.

"You can thank me after you've gotten some sleep."

Julian blushes, keeping his mouth shut. He settles back in, cheek pressed against Kamui's soft, pearly skin, and closes his eyes. Kamui continues running his fingers through Julian's hair until his breaths even out.

 

 

 

 

The next awakening is a more peaceful one—birds chirping, pale sunlight filtering in under the partition. This time, Kamui knows exactly where he is, except this time, he's alone in the bed.

Despite his grogginess and massive desire to curl back under the sheets for three more hours of sleep _minimum_ , he sits up, forcing his eyes to adjust. It was possible Julian had just—gotten up, eaten breakfast or something, and was waiting on him. Letting him sleep. The fact that Kamui didn't remember him getting up was weird, but, who knows. Maybe he really is subtle when he wants to be.

Kamui swings his legs over the side of the bed. Julian's clothes are all gone, leaving just Kamui's... horribly bloodstained clothes. Fuck. He was going to have to deal with this before he went out in broad daylight, wasn't he?

As much as he wanted to go find Julian, blood removal had to come first. It takes longer to do than he'd like, especially with it all having dried, but he eventually manages to get everything looking fairly normal, including patching up the bite marks and Julian's surgically clean cut.

Getting dressed as fast as he can manage with his many layers, he combs his hair into being as presentable as possible. While it was the type of hairstyle to look fine as bedhead, he still found himself wanting to look more presentable.

For no reason in particular.

Stepping out into the kitchen, Kamui looks around, unable to spot anyone anywhere in the room. He heads for the center of the room, awkwardly rubbing his arm. There were a few doors he hadn't seen the other sides of, but he didn't feel right freely exploring Mazelinka's house. He didn't know her like Julian did.

With a tired sigh, he deposits himself in one of the chairs at the dining table. Julian was still here, right? He hadn't left any sort of note, but then again, would that really be wise, leaving evidence behind like that? What if Mazelinka got searched? He wasn't even sure if that was a thing that happened.

But... what if he had left? Would he do that? Kamui didn't think he was wrong about Julian, but he was also operating on only three years worth of actual life experience. Was he stupid for thinking Julian wouldn't ditch him at the earliest convenience?

He thought they had something. Or could have had something, eventually.

_Stupid._

Right, why would he think that, that anyone would stick around? There were reasons why he only had one friend. He was—

"Ah, Kamui, you're awake."

Kamui jolts, nearly falling out of his chair. His head whips around in the direction of the voice, spotting Julian, fully dressed, standing by one of the unknown doors, hands raised in surrender. Annoyed, Kamui bites his lip, suppressing a groan.

"Sorry," Julian says, "I didn't realize you were so skittish."

Kamui scoffs. "I didn't realize you were so _quiet_. I'm going to have to put a bell on you, or something."

"Oh? You're going to collar me?" Julian says suggestively, grinning with both brows raised. He crosses his arms over his chest. "A man after my own heart."

"Don't tempt me." Kamui raises from his seat, reflexively dusting himself off. The next time he looks up at Julian, the man's expression has changed; steeled into something bordering on serious, and right away Kamui doesn't like the look of it. "What's wrong?"

Julian carefully doesn't react, although Kamui can see him fighting the urge to bite his lip. "Kamui, we—we need to talk," he says.

That didn't skyrocket Kamui's blood pressure, or anything. " _We need to talk_ "—that's what you said when you were breaking up with someone. Granted, they weren't dating... or were they? They were... something. Was that over?

"Okay," Kamui drawls. He crosses his arms, wary.

"But... not here. Let's head to the market, shall we? Plenty of places to talk there."

Right. Move away from the private residence where he likely spent most of his nights. _So he can break up with you._

They head out, Kamui deferring to Julian's leadership to find their way around. Kamui wants to ask what the talk is going to be about, but he... doesn't want to know. He can already tell it's nothing good.

The South End market isn't like the one near Kamui's shop. His eyes wander freely, curious. It clearly wasn't intended to be a market originally, but the people here had made do.

"Now, about that talk," Julian starts. His statement sends a jab of anxiety through Kamui's chest, but it doesn't last as Julian becomes distracted more-or-less immediately. "Ah! I nearly forgot. First things first, Mazelinka left us with a shopping list."

He fishes said list out of one of his pockets, and Kamui leans in to glance over the list himself. He suppresses a laugh; these were all magical ingredients. "She uses them for her folk remedies," Julian explains with a proud smile. "Most effective pep-up soup I've ever had. And I've had a lot of soup."

"You know that wasn't soup, right?" Kamui blurts out, unable to keep it in any longer. Julian gives him an odd look, so he continues. "These are all magical ingredients. You know, for brewing. Potions. Magic potions. Which is what you drank last night, directly out of my—"

" _Okay_ ," Julian interrupts, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. "First off, they're not _magic._ They're ingredients for medicine, and effective ones at that. She's not a magician."

"Julian, look at me. I know magical ingredients and potions when I see them." He points to some of the items on the list. "Look, we carry these in my shop." He points to one item in particular. "Asra brings these to me all the time. You know what they're used for? _Sleeping potions_ , Julian."

Julian scoffs, pulling the list out of Kamui's reach. "It's not magic. No one chanted nonsense from a fancy but ominous tome. There were no glowing circles and weird runes."

Huh?

"No one bled," Julian adds with a cynical smile on his face.

Kamui stares blankly up at him. Is that what he thought magic looked like? Where did he even get that idea? He studies Julian's face; the man looked uncomfortable, like he'd rather talk about anything else, and continue living in his little non-magical bubble where things made sense. But that wasn't Kamui's style.

"Does magic bother you?" Kamui asks.

Julian sputters. "Wh—N-No. Of course not. It's just..." He hesitates, brushing some of his hair back. "I don't understand it. Never have. But these folk remedies, medicine, _that_ makes sense. You chop up some ingredients, combine them, find out what works, what doesn't."

"You mean, like magic," Kamui says, with a quirk of his eyebrow. "It's the same style of experimentation." He laughs, sarcastic. "I'm not a god, Julian, I can't just pull things out of thin air, there are rules. Just like everything else."

Julian sighs, but manages a smile, looking down at Kamui with a lighter mood about him. "Well, look at you, knowing things. And all I know is that I don't know."

Kamui shrugs, returning the smile without really thinking about it. "Acceptance is the first step to recovery," he teases.

They exchange smiles, and Kamui finds himself with a fluttery feeling in his chest. It doesn't last, as Julian sobers up before long, saying, "So, Kamui, about that talk—"

Only for someone Kamui's never seen before to interrupt, greeting Julian like an old friend. He responds in turn, and Kamui merely hovers nearby, trying not to intrude, but curious all the same.

This turns into a pattern, Julian leading Kamui through the crowds by the hand while stopping every-so-often to talk to someone that's called out to him with familiarity. Kamui finds himself focusing more on the way his hand rests within Julian's grasp than whatever conversations he might be having. It helped soothe some petty feelings he wasn't willing to admit to having.

Julian probably tries initiating "the talk" about a dozen times along the way, never once succeeding to get any further than that. With how much he dreads finding out exactly what "the talk" entails, Kamui is appreciative for each interrupt, and never makes the attempt to get Julian back on topic.

It's easy to start zoning out, so when something bumps into him and sends him falling back, he... probably shouldn't be surprised. Seemed to be a running theme at this point, really. Julian reacts fast, shooting out to wrap his arms under Kamui's back before he can hit the ground—or, rather, a nearby cart, full to the brim with an assortment of colorful fruits.

Julian lets out a relieved sigh. "Are you alright? Did you—oh, no."

The cart wobbles, its supports failing, and the entire thing starts to collapse in on itself. Julian pulls Kamui in close against his chest, blocking him with his body, which jerks as he's pummelled with a variety of fruits and crumbled up wood. Once the commotion starts to die down, Kamui peers around the curtain formed by Julian's cape, grimacing at the ruins of what was once a perfectly good shopping cart.

"Oops," Kamui mumbles, embarrassed.

Julian helps him to his feet, wiping dust from Kamui's shoulders and waist. "Are you alright?"

Kamui waves off Julian's wandering hands with an unsteady laugh. "I'm _fine_ , _mom_. The cart, though..."

The two look over the destruction, before Kamui glances up at Julian, who's cringing. "Looks like I'll be buying a fruit stand today," he says with a resigned sigh. He walks up to the vendor, pulling a pouch out of his pocket, clinking with the sound of coin. He starts offering up foreign currency to the vendor, each more bizarre than the last. It seems to go over well, though, and he's let off the hook, inviting every last bystander in the area to their pick of the fruit.

The two make their escape before the crowd can get to be too much, Kamui's hand finding it's way back to Julian's. Once they've retreated a safe distance away, Julian stops, turning to Kamui to once again check him over for injuries. Kamui raises a brow at him.

"Julian..."

Julian makes a difficult to describe noise. "You aren't hurt, are you? Everything still where it should be?"

Kamui fixes him with a flat look. "You know, doctor, if you wanted to fondle me, you could've just asked."

Julian tears his hands away as if burned. Kamui's lips quirk into a smile, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm fine, really," he insists, leaning forward into Julian's personal space. "Nothing to worry about, okay?"

A touch embarrassed, Julian nods, lips pressed into a fine line. "Well... nonetheless, I probably should have warned you. The streets can get a little rowdy," he says. "I imagine you're much more used to the area closer by your shop." He hums thoughtfully. "Ah, I know! I'll make it up to you. There's this nice little tea house, just down the way. We can sit there and... talk. It's cozy. You'll like it."

"I'll hold you to that," Kamui says.

"You can hold me however you want," Julian retorts with a devilish grin, causing Kamui's shoulders to slump, rolling his eyes with an amused huff.

He grins up at Julian. "Alright then, _handsome_. Lead the way." Julian blushes, but doesn't let the compliment fluster him too much, maintaining his grin as he guides Kamui through the crowded streets.

They arrive at the tea house before long, and this time they aren't stopped by any more merchants or old friends of the good doctor. Kamui looks over the building's exterior, taking in the decor. There are no windows looking in, just stained glass with romantic designs, leaving him wondering about the tea house's interior.

"Ah, good. It's still here," Julian says. "It's been awhile since I've been." He holds out his hand, making a slow, sweeping gesture. "You'll like it; high ceilings, great ambiance, little booths, tucked away. Not to mention, underground. You could lounge around for hours, just talking." He adopts a more serious expression. " _And_ , I've been meaning to say, we _do_ —"

The two men duck under a rotting beam, Julian leading Kamui toward a set of stairs leading to the underground portion, his arm around Kamui's lower back.

"Need to talk," Julian finishes.

Kamui flashes an awkward grin. "Do we?"

There's no response, as Julian opens the door for them. "After you, my dear," he purrs, and Kamui huffs softly, forcing some of the tension to ease out of his body.

He takes a step inside, squinting as his eyes adjust to the change in lighting. When they eventually do, what he sees isn't like any tea house he's ever been to. Colorful fabrics decorate the area, junk scattered about with no discernable purpose. Various costumes hang from racks, props stashed in wooden barrels, treasure chests overflowing with jewelry. There's a narrow path to get through it all, which the two follow along, peering curiously but cautiously around at the various items. Despite the lack of visible people, voices could still be heard in the distance, all clamoring together into a dull roar.

"A tea house, huh," Kamui says.

"This is very unlike what I remember," Julian says, a touch defensively. "They must have gone under... that's a shame. They served this smoky tea I haven't been able to find anywhere else."

Utterly shameless, Kamui walks right up to a nearby pile of clutter, sorting through it to see what all it held. Crowns, jester hats, pageboy caps, clips, combs, jewelry.

"I guess it's more of an oddities shop now," Kamui muses, picking up a feathery hat not unlike the one Asra liked so much. He runs his fingers along the feather before placing it atop his head, flicking the rim, a hand on his hip. It was too big for his head, wobbling and obscuring his vision a tad.

A hand lands on his hip, and he turns to see Julian looking down at him with a sly grin, which Kamui returns in kind. He leans back against the table behind him, one hand holding the hat up out of his eyes. But then Julian's eye catches on something in the distance, his smile vanishing. Curious and admittedly a little alarmed, Kamui turns, following the doctor's gaze.

Julian steps over to a nearby vanity table, plucking a doctor's mask off a hook near the mirror. It's black and doesn't obscure the mouth or neck, but aside from that, it pretty closely resembles Julian's old mask. Kamui follows him over, abandoning the hat to a random pile. He spots a pair of black boots under the vanity matching the ones Julian's got on.

"It's not a real doctor's mask, is it?" Julian mumbles, turning the mask over in his hands, observing the pale indigo lenses and beak. "We used to stuff these with different things... herbs, roses, whenever we had them. I think this is just a statement piece, though."

Kamui hums. "You should put it on," he carefully suggests. Julian's jaw drops, looking to Kamui in some manner of disbelief. Then, his expression turns decidedly more devious.

"Eager to see me back in a mask, huh?" Julian teases, and Kamui just thinks, _oh god, here we go_. "As I recall, you seemed to think I looked rather dashing in my old mask..."

"I did _not_ use those words," Kamui groans. Julian just hums, not quite believing Kamui's excuses, searching the mask for straps.

"You know, I don't hate it half as much in black," Julian says, fastening the mask to his face, back turned to the vanity. It looks elegant, Kamui thinks, more like something worn to a party than a clinic. It suits him really well, even if it doesn't exactly match his outfit in terms of tone.

"I may not have contributed much to the world of medicine, but I'm making waves in the fashion world," Julian jokes, posing a little as he shows off his mask. He tilts his head to one side, showing off the curve of his jaw.

Kamui—well, he's staring, but considering that was the point, he felt he could be excused. The mask perfectly accentuated Julian's natural curves; he could agree with Julian on this one. It was much better than the original.

Another thing it had over the original: it left the mouth exposed. The beak might prove a difficult obstacle, although... unlike the old mask, there was nothing covering the neck.

"You think it would be hard to kiss in one of these?" Julian asks, voicing exactly what Kamui was thinking. "Imagine kissing in TWO of these."

He could, and it was hilarious, but he had something a bit less innocent in mind.

He strides right up to Julian, grasping the front of his jacket and pulling him down to a more accessible height, catching the front of Julian's neck between his teeth. He can feel the man's breath catch, like prey caught in the mouth of a deadly predator, a shiver running down his spine. Julian's hands rest on Kamui's shoulders, sliding up into his hair as Kamui adjusts his hold, sinking his teeth in aggressively deeper, without a care to what Julian's limits might be. It just feels so good to do; primal, almost.

Julian sighs beautifully as Kamui pulls back, licking his lips and admiring his work. It had left a mark, sure, but he knew by now it wouldn't be permanent, or have any staying power at all. He looks up at Julian, noting the pleased, if a little smug smile on Julian's face. Kamui frowns, dissatisified with that response.

"That's more like it," Julian purrs, tugging on his collar to show off a specific spot on his neck. "Here."

Kamui dives for the exposed skin right away, digging his teeth in, determined to do better. He wouldn't be satisified until Julian was weak in the knees; getting a little bit carried away, he reaches up for Julian's hair, pulling on the strands, repositioning him to better expose his neck. Julian groans, wrapping his arms around Kamui's shoulders, a hand gripping Kamui's soft hair.

"Don't hold anything back," Julian says encouragingly, so Kamui bites until it hurts his jaw, feeling his eyeteeth piercing Julian's skin. Julian shudders, fingers tensing, swaying and leaning more heavily against Kamui than before.

Now _that's_ more like it.

Kamui tastes iron on his tongue, carefully removing his teeth from Julian's flesh to lean back, observing the mark. It's lightly dripping with blood, more from the top row than the bottom. He leans forward, lapping up the blood and feeling Julian shudder.

He abandons it, scraping his teeth along Julian's neck, up to his earlobe. He automatically tilts his head, more than willing to let Kamui continue to do whatever he wanted. He traps Julian's earlobe between his teeth, lightly nibbling, feeling the heat on Julian's skin brush against his cheek.

"That's it," Julian purrs, "Give me something to remember you by."

Huh?

Startled, Kamui bites down harder than he intended, breaking skin. Julian groans, but Kamui's too distracted to appreciate it properly, pulling back to look Julian in the eye, ignoring the bloody mark he'd left behind.

"' _Remember you by_ '?" Kamui repeats, brows furrowed. Julian averts his gaze, expression creasing with discomfort.

"Ah... did I say that?"

Before Kamui can open his mouth, Julian grips him by the hips, swapping their positions and backing Kamui up against the vanity. He looks smug, and—maybe it's on purpose, but it's so distracting. Kamui wants nothing more than to wipe that stupid grin off his face. He huffs, annoyed, pulling Julian back down to place a kiss on his neck, right below the previously-injured ear, still lightly damp with blood.

Afterwards, he goes for the ear, cleaning the blood with his tongue before just shamelessly sucking on Julian's earlobe, trapped lightly between his teeth. Julian's breath hitches, the skin of his ears turning pink. Once satisfied with his work there, he pulls away, placing a soft kiss to Julian's face right below the side of his mask. Julian wraps his arms around Kamui's lower back, pulling him flush against his chest, one of his hands threading into Kamui's hair, sighing pleasantly.

"You're so cute," he breathes, "I might just melt if I spend anymore time with you."

 _Then melt_ , Kamui wants to say, but holds back, leaning in to brush his cheek against Julian's, reveling in the feeling of the pink, heated skin there. He loves it, the reminder of the kinds of things he can _do_ to Julian, the way he can make him feel. That anything he did could garner such a reaction—it's exciting.

The hand on the back of Kamui's head shifts, gently urging him toward a different spot on the side of Julian's neck. "If you're going to bite, do it here," Julian says, his breath hot on Kamui's ear, sending a chill down his spine.

Kamui draws his tongue along the long strip of muscle. With no preamble he sinks his teeth in as hard as he can manage, feeling Julian's pulse jump. It does things to him that are less than appropriate for the semi-public setting; yet he keeps going, not stopping until he feels Julian's skin _pop_ under the weight of his teeth, blood dripping onto his tongue. Julian clings to him, his hand tightening around the back of Kamui's skull, a low, shuddering moan escaping his lips and raising goosebumps along Kamui's neck.

Kamui only wishes he could do more—bite harder, dig deeper, bleed him further, staining the collar of his jacket. All of which are thoughts he opts to keep to himself, afraid Julian might consider them alarming.

When he pulls back, Julian's head flops against his shoulder, the mask's beak arching over the top. He's flushed all the way down his neck, pink peeking out from under the bottom of the mask. The mark on his neck flares, but the bite is still somewhat visible, thanks to the leftover bloodstains. Kamui lightly traces it with his fingers.

Julian lifts his head just enough to look Kamui in the eye. "Was that good for you?" he jokes with a lopsided smile. Kamui chuckles.

"Fantastic," he says, licking his lips, relishing in the salty taste of iron. "You're delicious, Julian."

"You're not a vampire, are you?"

Kamui hums. "And what if I was? Would you turn me in to the guards?"

"And give up this treatment? Never," Julian says, grinning. He leans in toward Kamui's neck, placing a lingering kiss there, right above the scarf. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Not really," Kamui laughs. "I'm pretty predictable once you get to know me." He chuckles as Julian plants a kiss to his cheek, tilting his head at an awkward angle to avoid hitting Kamui with the mask's beak.

He places a hand on the opposite side of Julian's face, thumb moving underneath his chin, repositioning him to allow Kamui to lean in for a kiss, avoiding the mask more easily. He doesn't expect Julian's hands cupping his face, keeping him held there almost desperately; Kamui is more than happy to indulge him, though, only breaking away when it gets hard to breathe.

Julian licks his lips, catching Kamui's eye with an intense gaze. "Delicious," he breathes, a light blush spreading out across Kamui's face at the sound of his voice.

Suddenly weirdly jittery, Kamui says, "You like the taste of your own blood that bad, huh?", in hopes of regaining the upper hand. It doesn't work. Julian dives in for another kiss, this time at the corner of Kamui's mouth, and he exhales sharply through his nose, surprised.

Kamui reaches up around the back of Julian's neck, searching blindly for the cord tying Julian's mask. He locates it without much trouble, tugging on the cord and pulling the mask free, tossing it carelessly to the side. Julian looks surprised when he does, pulling back a bit farther.

"Is something wrong?" Kamui can feel the insecurity coming on, and as much as he'd love to see Julian fumble, he decides to show him a little mercy.

"Nothing," he responds, grooming Julian's hair so it sits properly without the mask matting it. Once satisfied, he leans in for another kiss, which Julian eagerly reciprocates, letting out a soft sigh against Kamui's lips. He bites Julian's lower lip, causing him to gasp, exactly as intended; he slips his tongue inside, grasping the back of Julian's neck tight, holding him in place.

Julian groans into his open mouth, and Kamui finds himself smiling—that's what he liked about Julian. Always so honest.

Even with... maybe a dozen or so people not all that far away.

A miserable wail cuts through the air, starling Julian more than Kamui, and he jumps back, cloudy eye wide.

"Did you hear that?" Julian asks. Kamui gives him a flat look, resulting in him sighing through his teeth. "Stupid question, sorry." He looks around, searching for the source of the noise, before settling on something in the distance. Kamui quirks an eyebrow at him, not nearly as interested in whatever the sound was as he is in kissing Julian some more, but apparently the doctor isn't on the same page. Julian snatches up the mask, reaffixing it to his face.

"Humor me," he says, before darting away, toward the back of the room. Frowning, Kamui pushes up off the vanity, following after him. He nearly crashes into Julian on the way, the taller man turning to him with a finger held up to his mouth, shushing him. Kamui blinks, but decides to "humor him", as he'd said.

They creep forward at a much quieter pace, and Kamui soon finds out why. A tall velvet curtain seperates them from a decently sized stage, upon which, a set of lights illuminate a fancy satin bed, an actor in sheer robes and a porcelain mask draped upon it.

"Is that..." Kamui begins, squinting through the lights, his voice lowered to a whisper. They watch the actor go through his melodramatic performance of Count Lucio, Kamui's mouth hanging open in shock. Was this allowed???

"Oh my god," Julian says, his eye sparkling with delight as he covers his mouth, masking the sound of his voice. "It's perfect. That sounds just like him."

 _Does it?_ Kamui almost asks, but keeps his mouth shut. Maybe that was too revealing. Definitely not the right time for _that_ conversation.

Picking apart the actor's dialogue, Kamui realizes; they were acting out the night of the last masquerade. In other words—Lucio's murder. He glances up at Julian, studying his reaction, but nothing's changed; he's just as enthralled by the less-than-flattering portrayal of Lucio's character as he was before. Kamui turns back to watch the performance, the curtain lowering for what he guessed was intermission.

He doesn't notice the rope tightening around Julian's ankle until it's too late.

Watching Julian hung up by his leg, suspended over the stage, looking helplessly down in Kamui's general direction; he can't help it.

He bursts out laughing.

Covering his mouth to hide his laughter, he waves up at Julian, providing absolutely no magical assistance at all whatsoever. Apparently it's noticed, because Julian's pleading look turns into a glare, causing him to laugh even harder, nearly doubled over in a fit of giggles.

It doesn't seem to matter, anyway, as Julian manages to retrieve a knife from his boot, using it to cut the rope. Not that it helps him get away unnoticed; no, he lands right in the actor's lap, to the surprise of everyone in attendance.

Julian quickly glances back in Kamui's direction, a wide eyed look on his face, which Kamui returns, covering his mouth in shock. He shrugs helplessly, before holding up a thumb, mouthing "good luck". Luckily, Julian just grins, practically glowing as he throws himself fully into the role of—well, himself, really.

Kamui pulls up a nearby stack of luggage, hopping on top of it and crossing his legs, head propped up on his hands. This was going to be good.

 

  
When the scene concludes, Kamui hastily exits the backstage area, avoiding the possibility of running into any of the actual cast, who might not appreciate him being there. He waits outside, sitting on the top step and waiting for Julian to come out.

"Kamui! There you are," Julian exclaims immediately upon seeing him, climbing the stairs two at a time to greet him at the top. Kamui pushes to his feet, catching Julian in a tight hug when the man finally reaches him. With the difference in height, Kamui's able to bury his face in Julian's chest with ease before the man pulls away.

"That was so exciting," Julian gushes, his wide grin positively infectious. He grabs both of Kamui's hands. "No one even knew it was me. Was the neighborhood always this skeptical?"

"I don't think anyone around here particularly cares," Kamui says. "You forget, no one liked Lucio. Especially not in this part of town. You're probably these people's hero."

Julian scoffs, "Imagine that. Me, a hero? What a laugh."

Kamui raises up to the tips of his toes, which Julian catches sight of, automatically bending down a little to allow Kamui to place a kiss on his cheek. He laughs, "Now what, hero? Got any other grand plans for today?"

Julian leans back in, returning the kiss with one of his own. "If you'd be so kind, would you join me at the Rowdy Raven for a bite to eat? My treat."

"Free food? You really know how to treat a man, Julian," Kamui laughs. "How could I refuse?"

"Great." Julian leans in for yet another kiss, this time to the corner of Kamui's lips. He's jittery, that much Kamui can tell; Does he get more affectionate when he's nervous? "After that, how about... a nice, relaxing walk down to the docks?"

Kamui smiles, humming thoughtfully. "Sounds like a date, Jules," he says. "I like the sound of it."

Julian mirrors Kamui's expression, smiling sweetly, warmly, affectionately. It brings about the return of the fluttery feeling in Kamui's chest. "Let's head out, then."

 

 

 

 

  
It's dusk by the time they reach the shore. They're alone together on the sandy pier, Julian several steps ahead as they walk, taking in the sights, the feel of the breeze coming in over the ocean air. Kamui's hand itches to reach out and grasp Julian's, having gotten a bit too used to it throughout the day, but he resists.

Julian stops, staring out over the water, and Kamui follows suit, standing close to him. "It's the perfect weather for sailing," Julian says wistfully. Kamui merely nods, clueless, looking more to Julian than the ocean.

Repeatedly, Kamui finds himself trapped with the urge to reach out and touch him. To say something less than platonic. Anything. But the same four words keep echoing in his head, reminding him of why they're here.

It was the end of the day. Nothing left now. _"We need to talk"_ —that was now, wasn't it?

To say that Kamui was dreading it would be an understatement. It had built up way too much at this point.

"Kamui, listen," Julian starts, suddenly serious.

 _Here it is,_ Kamui thinks, fingers tensing anxiously.

"We, uh, we really need to talk."

"Yeah," Kamui says lamely.

"We've, uh. Needed to talk all day. I guess I was enjoying myself too much to take the plunge," Julian sighs.

_Was kinda hoping you'd forget about it._

"What's going on, Julian?" Kamui asks, unable to take the waiting any longer. _Get it over with, please._

Julian laughs, "Lots of things. Too many things." He sighs, averting his gaze.

"Name one."

"I get the feeling you're not going to make this easy for me," Julian mirthlessly chuckles. "I... I keep thinking about the future, about all the outcomes this... relationship of ours could have, and I can't imagine one that doesn't end in tragedy."

"Well, we all die some day, Jules," Kamui quips, struggling to keep the mood light, to not think. "It's about the journey, as they say."

"And what if the journey ends sooner than you'd hoped?" Julian asks.

"It's still important to have taken it at all," Kamui counters.

Unconvinced, Julian continues. "Wouldn't you rather spare yourself the misery and get it over with before it can come to that? Before everything can get so much worse, so much harder to deal with?"

Kamui frowns. "I'm not a _coward_ , Julian."

Julian pales. "I didn't—I didn't mean to imply that you were. Just that, well..." He stares out over the open ocean, chewing on his bottom lip. Eventually, he sighs, stepping out onto the pier and taking a seat on the edge, his legs dangling over the side, boots skimming the surface of the water. Kamui follows not long after.

They sit in silence for awhile; right as Kamui thinks to say something, Julian interrupts, pointing a gloved hand out over the ocean. "Do you see that island in the distance?" Kamui squints at it. "That's the Lazaret. It's where the city sends its infected dead."

Kamui grits his teeth, cringing. Something about it was giving him chills, and not just what Julian was telling him. He averts his gaze, watching Julian instead.

"What about it?"

"Every death, every body burnt in those pits is another mark against me," Julian says, with a certain sorrowful, dramatic flair to his words. "I don't want to drag this out, Kamui. This... whatever it was, whatever it could have been. This has to end. I'm only going to end up hurting you somehow."

"I'm not afraid," Kamui says, insistent. "We've established that, haven't we?"

Julian sighs, "You shouldn't be so cavalier with your own safety."

"Right. Because you're so careful with yours."

"I'm only trying to protect you—"

"I can protect myself," Kamui says, turning to Julian with frustration in his eyes, fingers curling.

"I—I know you can," Julian says, sighing. "Please, don't make this any harder than it has to be. The kind of life you want, I can't provide that for you. You deserve better than this. Better than me."

"Maybe I don't want 'better'. Maybe I want you."

Pale pink floods Julian's cheeks. His lips part, but before he can say anything, Kamui interrupts him.

"Do you dislike me?"

Julian sputters. "What? No," comes his immediate response. "That's not what this is about."

"Right, this is about your martyr complex," Kamui scoffs. "Listen, if you didn't like me, I could accept that. I wouldn't be _happy_ , but at least it would be a valid reason to want me gone. But, this? You think you're doing me a favor, but you don't even know what I want."

"I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"Maybe I'm willing to get hurt because of you."

"You don't mean that," Julian insists. "You were fine without me in your life before, and you'll be fine without me now. It'll hardly make a difference. There's no reason to ruin your life for my sake."

Kamui's eyes focus on Julian, on the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. His eye, a dull gray, with its dark shadows from many nights of lost sleep.

"Who's going to stop you from ruining yourself?"

Julian startles, turning to Kamui with a wide eye. "Me...?" His eye lowers, staring down at the sea below them. "That doesn't matter."

"Maybe it matters to me. I don't want to see _you_ get hurt. By anyone but me, of course."

Julian laughs, but it's pitiful sounding, and he turns even farther away, until Kamui can barely make out his expression.

"You're more important," he insists. "You have a future."

"You could too."

Julian remains silent, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"Julian, answer me something."

There's no response, aside from Julian turning his head just enough to make eye contact, showing he was listening.

"Do you want me?"

Julian's eye widens, his blush deepening. "P-Pardon? I must not have heard you correctly..."

"I said, 'Do you want me'?" Kamui repeats, leaning forward, closer into Julian's personal space, a small thrill shooting through him when Julian gravitates towards him before catching himself in the act.

"Ohh. R-Right. So I, didn't mishear you then." Julian pauses to clear his throat, stalling. "That's, uh. An odd question to ask someone who's breaking up with you." He lets out an anxious puff of air, his body nothing but nerves. For a second there Kamui thinks he might just bolt, or throw himself into the sea to escape this conversation. Seemed dramatic enough for him.

"Do I want you? I... I want you to be safe. From me. From this whole mess. I want you to be happy. I—"

"You're not answering my question," Kamui interrupts, voice and expression stern. Julian flinches a bit, wincing.

"I..." he starts, drifting off as his face turns an even deeper shade of red. He fidgets with his hands, suddenly unsure where to put them. "I find myself inexplicably drawn to you. I feel... lighter when I'm with you. Much better than I've felt in years, if I'm being honest. I—I guess what I'm saying is..."

With a soft sigh, he turns, meeting Kamui's strict gaze. For a moment, he just sits there, biting his lip, eye roaming across Kamui's body, back up to his face, his hair—

"I do. Want you, that is," he admits. "I—I know we've only known each other a short time, but. I feel like I've known you for years."

There's a pang of—something, in Kamui's chest, at that. Years—how many years did he have no recollection of, at all whatsoever? Years, that...

Could they have known each other? Was that possible? But... why wouldn't Julian remember...?

A dull throb in the back of Kamui's head convinces him to stop thinking about it.

Julian continues, the words spilling out, freeform. "I don't know why. Is it because you put me at ease? That's not an easy thing to do, you know. And, I—I want to be near you. I'm always thinking about you, even when you're not around. And that's the problem, isn't it? Against my better judgement, I... I don't want to leave."

"Then why are you doing this to yourself?" Kamui's voice is much quieter than normal, more like a torturous voice inside Julian's own head than something spoken aloud.

Biting his lip, Julian tears his eye away from Kamui, staring out at the starry night sky instead. "We can't get what we want all the time," he says, equally as quiet. "And, I... How do I know I deserve any of this? Do I really deserve to be so selfish as to ask you to stay? I can't, I—"

With a frustrated sigh, Julian rises to his feet. He steps back onto the sand, pacing. Kamui angles his body around to watch him, with his arms wrapped tight around his torso, kicking up sand without even noticing. Frowning, Kamui gets to his feet, taking a few steps closer.

"Stop doing that, Julian," Kamui says, his tone harsh enough to put a total halt to Julian's pacing.

"Sorry," comes Julian's reflexive response. "I just—" He groans, dragging a hand down his face and leaving it there afterwards, hiding behind his hand.

"Tell me to leave."

"I don't—Ohhh, you really aren't making this easy," Julian groans, adopting a bitter grin, his hand falling back down to his side. He gestures theatrically in Kamui's direction. "You know, that's what I like about you. You're bold, determined, say whatever you want, consequences be damned. You're strong. You don't—" He grits his teeth, wilting. "You don't need me."

"What's this about need? Maybe I just want you," Kamui says.

"Please stop saying that."

"Make me, _Devorak_ ," Kamui challenges. Predictably, Julian does nothing of the sort, instead just sighing, _again_ , and turning his back on Kamui.

"You know, I can—If I just close my eyes, I can see the kind of future we could have together," Julian says wistfully. "Warm smiles, light hearts. Never a dull moment. Days spent in friendly company. Pasha never having a reason to cry again."

"You could have that, if you just tried."

Frustrated, Julian whips back around. "What do you want me to say, Kamui?" he snaps, lips curled into a mockery of a smile. "That I want a future? That I want to live?" His face reddens, a hand raising to rest near his throat, just barely brushing the tip of his chin. "That I... That I want something with you?"

"Yes!" Kamui exclaims, like it should've been obvious from the start. "Julian, please. What can I say to make you give this up?"

"There's nothing you can say. Trust me, things will be a lot better off this way."

"You can't just—"

"Kamui, _please_ ," Julian begs, his expression turning desperate. It catches Kamui off guard, his mouth snapping shut. "This is the way it has to be. I can't allow myself to ruin more innocent lives. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you because of me." He scoffs, chuckling darkly. "Not that I have much longer to live, anyway."

"Don't say that," Kamui snaps, feeling his eyes start to burn.

Julian doesn't respond, remaining silent, despondent. He wraps his arms around his torso in a way that looks a lot more like a self-hug than anything else. He turns away, raising a hand to press against his temples. Kamui can hear him sigh, can feel the weariness in his voice. And he has...

No idea what to say.

He's slipping.

"I'll walk you home," Julian offers, barely audible over the dull roar in Kamui's ears.

 

 

 

 

Despite the long walk back, no words are exchanged. It's unnaturally, unnervingly quiet, like everything in the world has died. Or maybe that's just Kamui's perception. The world did seem a little grayer, all of a sudden. He can't bring himself to look up, at Julian. Like it would make all of this a little too real.

When they reach the shop, Kamui almost doesn't notice. When had they even reached this part of town? He suppresses a sigh, not wanting to break the silence.

Julian breaks it first.

"So... here we are. End of the line."

God... dammit.

"You know... When I came to Vesuvia, I was seeking answers," Julian continues. What he looks like, where he's looking, Kamui has no idea, eyes fixated on his white boots, a stark contrast to the pair standing barely a foot away from his. "Finding you... that was a rare treat."

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Julian reach out for him, stopping just short, uncertain. Kamui remains perfectly still, refusing to even so much as give away that he's noticed. His stomach twists. Which would he prefer? He's not even sure he knows anymore.

The hand disappears, and Kamui just waits. Waits for him to leave. Maybe forever. He isn't sure whether or not he wants that, either. It was all so, so difficult to figure out. To piece together in his head.

Why did it have to be this complicated? Emotions were supposed to be straightforward, things were supposed to make sense. That's how it's always been. You act how you feel, do whatever you please. Keep whatever makes you happy, and trash the rest. It's easy.

Julian's heels clack against the cobblestone, but they don't get quieter, rather, they're just getting closer. He doesn't have time to anticipate it before it happens; Julian's hand, brushing Kamui's bangs aside, warm, gentle lips pressing a kiss to his forehead.

And then it's gone. All of it. And it feels like his heart has just dropped into the bottom of his stomach.

"Thank you, my dear," Julian says, soft, like anything more would be too much, too violent. The endearment makes Kamui's stomach twist, unsure if it's a pleasant feeling or not. "The time we spent together, however brief... it mattered to me. I won't forget it."

There's a light breeze as Julian turns, his cape twirling in the air. Kamui doesn't turn to look. He doesn't think he can. Only when the sound of footsteps fully recede does he make a move, stiff, like a wooden puppet. Turning on an axis, reaching for the handle to the shop's front entrance to find it already unlocked, waiting for him. His hands shake, audibly rattling the handle.

There's a gentle, warm smell wafting through the shop. Cinnamon, one of Kamui's favorites. The whole place is lit up, steam wafting down from upstairs.

_Asra._

There's a need, a desperation, building inside of him that he doesn't understand, but that isn't new, is it? He doesn't understand a thing. It feels like every part of him is pulled too tight, his motions slow, held down by an invisible weight.

He doesn't even realize he hasn't moved from the entrance. He takes a few steps inside, but it feels wrong; he'd rather collapse, sleep for a few years, maybe. He felt pathetic, like maybe he should just, fall down right here, and sleep on the cold, dirty floor.

_Now who's dramatic?_

A head of fluffy white hair pops out from behind a nearby partition, a bright smile on his face as Asra steps into the landing. A smile which vanishes pretty fast, as soon as he sees the look on Kamui's face.

"Oh, I know that look," Asra says, brows upturned with worry. "What happened?"

Numb, Kamui raises his head with a considerable effort, not liking the look of concern on Asra's gentle face. He shouldn't look like that, Kamui thinks. He should be happy.

He tries to respond, but he doesn't think he can. The words won't come out. Hell, he can't even get his lips to move to begin with, mouth hanging open uselessly. The only thing he can really manage to do with his face is blink, and that's a mistake, bringing attention to his eyes like that, because now they're burning, sight blurring, and he blinks rapidly, because, this is the worst time—

Asra crosses the room in three steps, not hesitating for even a second before pulling Kamui into his arms, holding him tight. His touch breaks something inside of Kamui. Tears spill forth unbidden, and he chokes on a sob, feeling absolutely wretched. He manages the bare minimum, raising his hands to grip the back of Asra's shirt, burying his face into his shoulder.

He can hardly breathe, and Asra just—rubs his back, in gentle, slow circles. Whispering into his ear that it's okay, that everything will be okay. And when he says it, it feels like the truth.

Kamui has no idea how much time passes of them just standing in the landing, while he sobs like an absolute child, getting tears all over Asra's shirt. But he eventually manages to collect himself enough that Asra starts to pull away—and Kamui finds that he really, really doesn't want him to, but he's been selfish enough already.

He doesn't want to face him, not when he looks like such a disaster, but when Asra starts to tilt his head back a bit, he doesn't resist. Bronze thumbs swipe slowly across his eyes, wiping away his tears even as more threaten to fall. Asra's hands remain there, delicately caressing the sides of Kamui's face, and he finds himself leaning into it.

"We can talk upstairs, if you feel up to it," Asra says, his voice low, gentle. Not quite a whisper, but soft nonetheless. The kind of voice Kamui could find himself being lulled to sleep by. "I made some of that tea you like. You look like you could use it."

Kamui just nods, words failing him. Asra releases him, and his head droops back down, hair falling forward to cover his face. Sensing his mood, Asra drapes an arm around him, Kamui leaning into his shoulder, and leads him upstairs.

They settle into the kitchen, Asra guiding Kamui over to a chair, helping him sit, his limbs stiff like they'd never been used before, and weren't quite broken in yet. When Asra steps away to fetch the tea, Kamui's chest hurts, and the feeling is—intense. A lump forms in his throat and he sniffles, struggling to hold back his tears. To push back the pain in his heart.

Faust slithers across the table, stopping to peer up at Kamui before curling around a warm mug. The earliest signifier that Asra had returned, a mug of steaming liquid being placed on the table in front of him. The mug is white, with little black drawings of cats on it, and Kamui almost finds himself smiling.

Almost.

He wraps his hands around the mug, the heat a bit scalding, but he endures it. He feels more than sees Asra take a seat directly next to him, violet eyes watching him burn his hands with open concern. Gently, Asra pries them away from the mug, and Kamui just lets him, limp, lifeless. He piles both of Kamui's hands in his, a wave of magic washing over them, cooling his palms just enough to be comfortable. After the magic fades, he rubs his thumbs across Kamui's palms, like a gentle massage.

It's relaxing. And for some reason, Kamui just really wants to lay his head on the table, so he does. Asra's hands still the moment he does, looking over his apprentice with worry etched into his features.

"It's that bad?"

Kamui groans miserably, turning to hide his face in the wood, hair piled around his head like a mop. It leaves him at a bit of an awkward angle for Asra to still be holding his hands, so Asra lets them go, only for Kamui to reach out blindly for them. A bit startled, Asra exhales with a soft laugh. It's like music to Kamui's ears.

For awhile they just sit there, Asra holding onto Kamui's hands, gently massaging his palms. Kamui, face-planted into the table. Faust, probably still wrapped around what was either her, or Asra's mug. Or both.

Eventually, though, he turns his head, his eyes pink and puffy and he's sure he looks disgusting, feels disgusting—but Asra doesn't care, and deep down, he knows that. He sniffles. Asra gently lays Kamui's hands down in his lap, reaching out with one hand to brush the hair out of his apprentice's face.

"Thanks," Kamui mumbles. He doesn't like the sound of his own voice, not like that. Wavering and small. Vulnerable, weak. He's not that. He shouldn't be that. "You're good to me, Asra."

Asra's face reddens a bit, his hand stilling, and Kamui almost smiles at the sight of him. It's cute, and... he loves it when he can get this reaction, out of anybody.

But especially Asra.

He doesn't respond, though, combing his fingers through Kamui's hair, the tips of his fingers lightly grazing Kamui's scalp. He sighs pleasantly, closing his eyes for a moment, unbelievably tired. He hated crying for that very reason, among many, many other reasons.

He opens his eyes again, glancing around the room, or as much as he can see of it from his vantage point, anyway. It's exactly as he remembers it. And it... feels good to be back.

He sighs, hyper-aware of the gaping hole in his chest. He opens his mouth to speak—now or never.

"Julian broke up with me," he says, flat, emotionless.

Asra's hand stills, hovering over Kamui's hair. "He—You were...?" he stammers, bewildered. Kamui couldn't blame him; it had only been a few days since he'd left, and there was no way this had gone any further back than that. Kamui told him everything, even things he probably shouldn't. For something like this to have happened while he was away...

"What happened?" Asra prompts.

So Kamui tells him. Sans the... steamier details. Even he knew when to withhold information, most of the time. Asra didn't need to know he'd licked a magic potion off Julian's chest, or tasted his blood firsthand.

Actually, no one needed to know that second part. It was beyond creepy out of context. Maybe even _in_ context.

"He took an entire day to break it off?" Asra sighs, looking supremely annoyed, his bangs casting a shadow over his eyes. Kamui peers curiously up at him, still laid out on the table. He was allowed to be dramatic once in a while, he thought. "Listen, Kamui. The only thing Ilya likes more than drama is his own suffering. And he's determined to chase both."

"He really shouldn't," Kamui says miserably. "I don't want him to."

"He doesn't listen to reason," Asra says. There's an edge to his voice not too dissimilar to the one Julian held whenever he spoke of Asra. Bitter, resenting. "You can't stop him. You can try, but... well, I don't want to see you get hurt trying. This is... already hard enough to watch."

Kamui curls his hands tighter around Asra's. His hands are soft, unlike Julian's, harsh and calloused as they were. It's not better or worse. Just different.

"I can't remember ever feeling this way before," Kamui admits. He turns back toward the table, the desire to hide rising in him, but Asra doesn't quite let him, reaching out to brush aside the hair that threatens to fall in front of his eyes. "Am I overreacting? I only knew him a few days, but it feels like I lost something so much greater than that."

Asra's silent, stroking Kamui's hair just the way he likes it. And, he isn't even sure if he wants Asra to say anything. He's not so sure what could possibly be said to begin with. Asra would never belittle him—staying silent, that just means... he doesn't know. And neither does Kamui.

"I'm here for you," Asra says gently. "Whatever you need. Just name it."

Kamui nods mutely. Then, he blinks, turning his head to look up at Asra.

He doesn't even need to say anything. "Yes?" Asra asks, attentive.

"Hold me," Kamui mumbles, and Asra immediately moves to oblige him, pulling Kamui up off the table and into his arms. Kamui just lays there, resting his head and hands on Asra's chest, reveling in the feeling of Asra's skin on his. He's warm. Asra's heart beats a gentle staccato rhythm near his ear, like rain falling on a roof, a gentle trickle of magic tickling his skin.

He feels like home.

Asra rubs a hand across Kamui's back, the other combing through his hair, carefully and gently pulling out tangles. Kamui stares at the table, where their drinks have started to cool, Faust gazing at him in curiosity, her head held upside down. He lays there until he feels himself start to drift off to sleep, the scent of magic and lemon tea washing over him.


	3. Chariot - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's your first warning that the blood ritual scene is nsfw

"Are you sure?"

Kamui sighs, staring at his own reflection in the mirror for the thirtieth time that morning as if it would eventually change. He appeared more exhausted than he could ever remember looking, the despair in his eyes hard to miss. Nadia would notice for sure.

"Just... for a little while," Kamui responds. "The whole world can't halt just for me. I still have responsibilities. I won't overdo it, I promise."

Swiping his fingertips across the dark circles under his eyes for what he resolved to be the last time that day, he turns to face Asra, who's leaning against a nearby wall, arms crossed.

"I'm just worried about you," Asra says, gaze averted. "I haven't seen you look that bad in... a long while."

"It's okay, I'll be pretty again soon," Kamui jokes. It doesn't land. "Really, Asra. I'll be fine. And, besides, I can call on you anytime I need you, can't I?" He raises his hand up to his chest, deftly twirling the magician's emerald between his fingers. "I'll bug the shit out of you, if that'll make you feel better."

That one earns a bit of a chuckle, bringing a small smile to Kamui's face. Feeling the need to say goodbye in a more hands-on way, he strides over to Asra, defaulting to a quick hug. Asra lingers a bit longer than he does, but Kamui just narrows it down to concern for his well-being.

"I won't be long," he says, sending Asra a delicate smile before exiting the shop.

 

 

 

  
The palace hasn't changed much in his absence—of course not, it wouldn't go into disarray for someone who didn't even actually belong there. No one comes to greet him and he doesn't seek anybody out; actually, now that he's here, he's not sure it's such a good idea after all. He doesn't want to talk to Nadia. He doesn't want to see Portia. He'd love something to do, but he's really not up to communicating.

No one stops him and after some time of walking, he reaches the garden. He glances at the fountain, his eyes lingering, before forcing himself to turn away.

Kamui finds a nice spot to sit down in the grass, praying he won't have to deal with grass stains when he gets back up. It feels nice to just sit down, relax, not think. Maybe Nadia will find him, won't suspect he's been off fucking around instead of cooperating with her. She'll give him something to do and he'll do it, and then he'll go home.

Something brushes past his neck, pushing up through his hair, and he turns with an overall lack of alarm to find Faust hovering nearby, her goofy face inches away from his. He frowns, but doesn't have the energy to maintain it.

"Asra sent you, didn't he?" Kamui mumbles. "He didn't have to. I'll be fine on my own, really. What am I going to do? Drown my sorrows in a bottle? I don't even drink."

Kamui slumps back against the nearest tree. Faust tilts her head all the way around, peering curiously up at him. He sighs.

"You're too cute, Faust. I can't be mad at you."

He tilts his head back, letting his eyes fall closed. There's a light breeze blowing gently through his hair, lulling him into a deep relaxation. He's nearly on the verge of sleep when he hears a voice; reluctantly, his eyes flutter open, and he glances around. Maybe he misheard. Maybe it had nothing to do with him. But it was best to be sure, in case it was Nadia. It probably wasn't a good idea to ignore her, even unintentionally, although he was sure she'd forgive him.

"... _worried_..."

It was a lot clearer that time; he could make out the words. But he has no idea where it was coming from. It wasn't above or below him, to his right or left, as far as he could tell. It might as well have come from his own mouth.

" _Worried_!"

Faust hangs down from a branch overhead, lightly shaking a few leaves free. He stares into her little beady red eyes, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Wait... Faust, was that you?"

" _Worried_!!"

The voice is much louder now, stronger. It sounds like it's coming from his own head, more than the mouth of a snake, but. It wasn't like it was impossible. Asra and Faust spoke all the time, but no one else had ever heard Faust speak, considering she was Asra's familiar, no one else's. So, actually, maybe this should have been a little impossible.

"What are you worried about, Faust?" He keeps his voice at a near whisper, not wanting anyone to overhear him talking to a snake. Rather than respond, Faust drops from the tree, landing gently in Kamui's lap and curling up on the knit fabric of his dress shirt.

He can sense the trust emanating from her, radiating warmth throughout his body. It kind of hurts, if he's being honest. A good kind of hurt, though. Just... a heavy contrast, clashing with the conflict already brewing inside of him.

"Oh," He sighs. "You're worried about me, too?" He leans forward, and Faust immediately leaps up to boop him on the chin, causing him to laugh. "Thanks, Faust."

With a soft sigh he leans back against the tree, looking out over the garden. It's peaceful here. A light breeze, soft grass, the gentle sound of flowing water, a warm sun, not too overbearing. Asra would love it. He could picture him lying out on the grass, covered by the shade of the trees, eyes closed, serene. It seemed perfect for him.

Faust perks up. " _Tree_ ," she says, tilting her head enough to wind herself into a full circle. He frowns down at her, confused. She slithers past him, making a beeline to the other side of the tree where she points her face insistently at a certain spot. Kamui crawls towards her, leaning one hand against the tree.

"Faust, what..."

That's when he sees it. His name, plainly carved into the side of the tree. A pit starts to form in his stomach, confusion marring his features. Who wrote this? It looks old, far older than a few days, or even a few years. Why would this be here? His name wasn't local, there shouldn't be any more of him here. It had to be him.

He brushes his fingers across it, feeling the indentations, but something else as well. A dull dusting of magic, like the powder of a butterfly. _Asra_.

But, why? When was he in the palace? It was easily older than their relationship, at least, as far as he knew. Not that he was an expert on trees, but still.

He manages to tear his eyes away from it as Faust wraps her body around his hand, leaning into his field of view. " _Asra._ " She tilts her head, staring into his eyes.

He blinks, and suddenly the tree before him is gone; he's no longer kneeling in the grass, feeling a gentle breeze sift through his hair. There's no feeling at all; but the sight he's met with is the palace garden, bathed in the golden rays of the setting sun. Lounging beneath the tree, in an outfit Kamui's never seen before, is Asra. He turns to the side, catching sight of Faust slithering through the grass, quickly making her way up his body to wrap around his shoulders.

"Faust, there you are," he says, as the snake pushes her head up against his cheek, nuzzling. "Where have you been? Off snuggling up to certain doctors...?"

Faust says something, or so Kamui assumes; he can't hear it at all, but Asra remains silent as if he's listening.

"You know, Faust, if you spend too much time with him, he'll start thinking you like him." Asra averts his eyes, his once cheerful expression twisting with discomfort. "Just like he's started thinking that _I_ like him. But," he turns back to Faust, a complicated expression on his face—something like a smile, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "You and I know who my heart belongs with."

That one statement sends a torrent of questions through Kamui's mind. When was this? Who was he talking about? A past lover, something unrequited? Why did he look so upset, did this person hate him? He didn't remember ever hearing about Asra dating anyone. Was it too far back? Would it have hurt his mind to find out about it?

"His name keeps slipping from my lips like a spell... and every day spent away from him makes the longing worse. To not hear his voice calling my name..." Asra trails off, a certain sadness in his eyes that he's quick to blink away, forcing a smile as he looks down at his familiar. "You miss him too, don't you? Or at least his expert chin skritches."

There's a pause, as Asra consults with his familiar.

"To somewhere we can't follow," he says, despondent. "Don't worry, Faust. I'm getting close."

There's a clicking sound nearby, and Asra languidly tilts his head in its direction, moving mostly his eyes to get a look at it. High up along the palace, a stained glass window opens, and an auburn-haired man with silver eyes leans out.

"Asra!" Julian calls. "Taking another nap, hmm? While you were away dreaming under your beloved tree, I made a breakthrough. If you don't hurry up here, I'm going to cure the whole city without you."

"I highly doubt that," Asra deadpans, his eyes lidding with annoyance. He looks back to Faust, his expression softening considerably. "Let's go, Faust."

He starts to raise, and at the same time, the scenery shimmers, colors blurring together like a watercolor painting. Kamui blinks rapidly, and his vision slowly returns, leaving him faced with the carving of his name. Stunned, for several moments all he can do is graze his fingertips along the carving; the thin layer of magic tingles, warming his skin. His heart thuds against his chest, warmth blossoming across his face.

 _'Your beloved tree'..._?

There's a throb in his head and he tears his hand away as if it had hurt him.

_Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it—_

Faust curls around his shoulder, peering up at him curiously, her head angled upside down. Kamui meets her eyes, uncertain, anxious, confused. "Why did you show me that?" he asks, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper. She tilts her head at him.

Sighing, Kamui leans his forehead against the tree. What was going on now? There was even more to think about than before, and he wasn't so sure any of it was relevant to the investigation. Asra didn't have anything to do with the Count's death, that was just absurd, and even if he did, nothing he'd just said was relevant.

Right?

And Julian was—Julian—

_Julian._

God, he looked different. Still the same dark sense of aesthetics, but he seemed... lighter, somehow. Like he was getting better sleep. Like he wasn't carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Not only that, but he was missing the eyepatch he always wore. Kamui had wondered about that, what it was for, assuming it concealed an empty socket. To see him with two eyes was so bizarre, like he was naked without it.

Kamui finds himself staring up at the library window. Was there something up there? Was that what the vision was meant to show him? Maybe this was Faust's way of showing him that, in her limited way.

Slowly, he raises to his feet, finding his legs aching as if he'd been squatted down for hours. He nearly trips, but pushes past it, stretching out his limbs. He takes a few unsteady steps away from the tree, pointedly avoiding looking back. Instead, his eyes land on the fountain nearby, lingering, hesitant.

" _Help. _"__

Asra... No. There was no reason to call on him now, it would only worry him. If Kamui couldn't go more than an hour at the palace without crawling back to him, he'd look pathetic. He was an adult. He could stand on his own two feet.

There was an investigation to conduct. It was... more important than his feelings. Feelings of longing, loneliness, exhaustion, anxiety... No, none of that was real.

He heads back inside the palace, gliding along the halls as if within a dream. Either he doesn't pass by anyone along the way, or they don't register in his mind. Eventually his feet land him in front of the library door, and it occurs to him.

The door is sealed by at least ten different locks, most or perhaps all of them magical in nature. He grits his teeth, sighing through his nose. Of course. This was—No, this wasn't anything. He didn't spend years training in magic to let a door get in his way.

On brute force alone, he manages to open two locks before the rest stop responding to him. Nothing he tries works. He's seconds away from ripping the lock from the door when someone approaches him from behind.

"Oh, Kamui! What a surprise. What are you doing here?"

_Portia._

Hands held behind his back, he whips around to face the tiny handmaiden, lips parting, but no sound comes out. Luckily, she interrupts, stepping closer and peering up at the freed locks with wide eyes.

"Did you do that? Whoa. That's pretty impressive," she says, and that's when he realizes the look in her cloudy eyes is _wonder_ , not anything bad. Tension begins to ebb out of his body at that realization. "These locks are made up of thousands of tiny little pieces. How did you manage to get them open?"

"Uh, I was just... really determined," he humbly dismisses.

"Wow. Milady was really onto something when she said you were talented," Portia praises. "You must need into the library, right? You could've just come found me, you know, I would have let you in."

"I was, uh... I didn't want to bother you," Kamui says, quickly formulating his excuse. It wasn't a lie, per say; he didn't want to bother _anyone_ right now, for more reasons than one. "You seem busy. I thought... I mean, you know, I'm a magician, so, I, uh... Please open this for me."

Portia chuckles, her expression brightening. "Of course," she says.

While she deals with the locks, Kamui stands awkwardly nearby, hoping he doesn't seem like he's hovering. Trying not to think too much, he distracts himself by watching her work.

"So, Kamui," she starts, "About what you saw in front of your shop... Please don't tell milady about that."

"You mean, with—Uh, I mean, _what_ thing that I saw in front of my shop?" She turns to him with a slight frown, and he sends her a wink. Understanding flashes in his eyes as her mouth forms an 'O', and she nods.

Smiling brightly, she says, "Thanks, Kamui."

Once the locks are dealt with, Kamui steps inside, promising Portia to lock up after he's done. Immediately after she's gone, he slumps back against the door. He liked Portia, she was friendly. But he wasn't in the mood to face other people right now; it just felt draining.

At least she didn't ask about the investigation.

With a sigh he glances around the library; there was something different about it. He could feel Asra's magic in the air, light, barely tangible, but there all the same. Why it was here now and not before escaped him, but it felt like Asra was trying to help him, somehow. Guiding him.

But what would he know about any of this?

Kamui lets his eyes flutter closed, tuning in to the feel of the magic and letting it guide him. He moves as if in a trance, and when his eyes open next, he's stood before a bookshelf, his gaze fixed on a specific book that seems to stand out from all the rest.

Pulling it free from its resting place, he carries it over to the couch nearby. It's fancy looking, a royal purple with gold trim, no visible title or author marked anywhere. A journal, maybe?

Faust slides down from her resting place inside his scarf, curling around his wrist. " _Friend_ ," she says.

He turns to look at her, but the next time he blinks, she's gone, as is everything else. Rather than the library, he's on the balcony overlooking the garden, stars twinkling overhead. Nadia is sat at a tea table filled with various treats and two fresh cups of smoked tea. There's a plant in her hands which she exchanges with the person next to her, whose amethyst eyes roam curiously over the plant.

"And see here? The elegant way the stem curls around itself?" Nadia is saying, delicately tracing a part of the fern with her fingertip. Asra listens intently.

"And you eat it?" he asks, immediately lifting the fern up to his mouth. Chuckling, Nadia gently reaches out to still his hand.

"If you do that, I'll have to call for your funeral next," she says, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

The two continue chatting, a certain familiarity and ease to their interactions that catches Kamui by surprise. The vision fizzles out before too long, but this time, he expects it, and blinks to clear his vision. In seconds he's back in the library, feeling the plush seat below him, Faust's leathery body coiling up his arm, the hardcover book beneath his palm.

He sets the book down on the coffee table. That memory... wasn't relevant to the investigation at all. It was starting to paint a bigger picture, though; Asra had been to the palace. Probably worked here during the plague. His healing magic was better than Kamui's by leaps and bounds, it only made sense that they'd want someone like him in their employ. Nadia had taken a liking to him, as had... a certain doctor.

But Nadia didn't even know Asra. How could she have forgotten about him entirely, if they were friendly enough to chat over tea?

A whisper of magic draws Kamui's attention to a corner of the library, and he stands to investigate. There's a book on a low shelf, which he ducks down to get, not really thinking about it, just allowing his body to move on its own. Once it's in his grasp, Faust's tail wraps around his hand. Already used to it, he blinks purposefully, the scenery shifting.

"How about this one?"

He was stood inside a colorful tent, full of elegant costumes hung on various racks. In the distance is the sound of a large amount of people talking and laughing amongst themselves, muffled by the walls of the costume tent.

He can _feel_ his fingers graze over a velvet coat before turning, finding Asra stood not far from him. There's a suit draped over his arm, presenting it in full for Kamui's judgement. It was lightly glittering, tapering at the waist with a tiered, silk sash in red and gold.

It... appeals. Greatly.

"It's your color," Asra says.

A laugh breaks out of his throat of its own accord. Words tumble out, "Red, huh? You don't say."

Asra's lips quirk, eyes hooded. "Do you like it?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Can you do better?"

"Ah, a challenge. I like it." Browsing through the rest of the selection of clothes, he eventually pulls out another outfit, presenting it held up against his own body. "How about this one?"

"Oh god, please say you're joking." The outfit in question is the most horrendous thing Kamui's ever laid eyes on; clashing patterns and colors with no semblance of order. "Whoever made that must have done it with their eyes closed. Do you want me to blind people?"

"I'm already blinded by your beauty," Asra responds, in a low, flirtatious tone of voice Kamui's never heard him use before. In response, he giggles, cheeks warming, feeling his own hand lightly cover his mouth. There's a look in Asra's eyes that he doesn't recognize; a certain glimmer, a warmth.

"Oh, shut up," Kamui says, and Asra's smile widens.

The various colors and sounds blur together until it's incomprehensible; Kamui blinks, returning to the library. Right away, the book slips out of his hands, but he doesn't even notice; his face warms, heart thudding against his chest.

...What was that? That was _him_ , right? Not just someone else, fixed with his voice for familiarity's sake? Asra never spoke to him like that.

Faust slithers away, and he turns, startled, watching her climb her way up onto Julian's desk. Quickly picking the book back up, he slides it into place before following after her.

At the desk, she nudges her head against a book which he slides out from under a pile. It was a dusty red tome with an overly drawn out title; a book on anatomy. No doubt it got a lot of use when Julian was still in the palace's employ. He tilts the book to the side, pouring through the pages filled with various notes, both on the paper and off of them. Faust's tail wraps around his hand, stopping him on a specific page.

He blinks, but the scenery doesn't change. Rather, he's just looking at it from a different angle.

Writing furiously at his desk, Julian sits with his leg crossed over his knee, rambling away with no sense of order, just thinking out loud. On the opposite end of the library from him, is a large pile of colorful pillows, all arranged to support Asra as he lounges back against them, a book in hand.

Somewhere in the middle of Julian's ramblings, he says, "Hey, Asra, can you—What are you doing?"

"What's it look like," Asra deadpans, flicking to the next page in his book. He doesn't bother turning away, even as the doctor shifts, leaning on the back of his chair to look over at him.

Turning back to his work with a bit of a huff, Julian says, "Can you come over and check this? I could use a second set of eyes."

With a long-suffering sigh, Asra sets the book aside, languidly rising to his feet. He takes his sweet time, stretching out his arms before slowly padding over to Julian's desk.

His shoulder brushes against Julian, who stiffens, face turning red. Steeling his nerves, Julian starts pointing out some of the things he's written, alongside things in various tomes he's referencing, saying a lot of things that go over Kamui's head. Asra stares down at the pages, but there's no indication that he's hearing a single thing that's being said; his gaze is far away, completely disinterested. Until he seems to spot something on one of the pages, his lips curling into a smile.

"You know, Ilya," Asra says, breaking Julian free from his train of thought. He gestures loosely down to a page with an anatomical drawing of a human body on it. "If you just wanted to show me your fantasies, you didn't have to hide it under all this pretense."

"Wh—" Julian bristles, his face coloring as he spots the drawing Asra is referring to. "That's not—That's a medical illustration, it's for research!"

" _Sure_ ," Asra drawls, entirely unconvinced. He hums, glancing over the pages. "Blood ritual?"

"Not quite," Julian says, quick to get back on track. As he continues explaining, Asra rapidly loses interest, going back to zoning out. Julian doesn't notice the change for even a second, too focused on his work. Before long, Asra excuses himself with the world's most disinterested, disingenuous hum of acknowledgement.

"Hey—Where are you going?"

"To sleep, hopefully," Asra replies, muffling a yawn behind his hand. "I'm tired, Ilya. I need to get back to the shop before dark."

Julian immediately rises from his seat, his knees slamming against the underside of his desk in his haste, knocking down several stacks of books. Ignoring it entirely, he turns to Asra, saying, "I'll walk you home."

With his back turned to Julian, the doctor doesn't see the long-suffering look on Asra's face. "Don't you have a disease to be curing?" he asks, turning halfway in Julian's direction.

Asra's tone is completely missed on Julian, who walks right up to him without a care. "Asra, please," he starts, "If you keep slacking off like this, I—I won't be able to protect you."

If possible, Asra looks even more unimpressed, his eyes hooded, a shadow falling over them. He doesn't get a chance to respond before Julian takes a single step into his personal space, grabbing onto both of Asra's hands and holding them in his, up by his chest. The action startles Asra, his eyes going wide, gaze fixed on their point of contact.

Julian talks about the Count, his illness, consequences; the worry that Asra could die by Lucio's hand, or his extended hand at the very least, should anything befall him. The words pass over Asra rather than absorb into him, staring defiantly up at Julian like a petulant child waiting for their parent to stop yelling at them.

"I don't want you to die, Asra. Not if there's something we could do to stop it," Julian says, a deep blush on his face, eyes transfixed on their joined hands. "Together," he adds, a hint of longing in his tone.

With a deep sigh, Asra tears his hands out of Julian's grasp, causing the doctor to gasp at the sudden aggression. " _Goodnight_ , Ilya," he says, an edge to his voice that Julian doesn't appear to catch.

Asra walks away, vanishing from view, leaving Julian alone in the library, a perturbed scowl etched into his features. The scene starts to fade away, melting together at the edges, but before it can disappear entirely, Julian mutters something to himself.

"If he won't listen to reason... I'll just have to _make_ him listen."

Kamui blinks to awareness, staring down at the book opened up on the desk below him. Faust was nowhere to be seen, but he hardly had time to think about that with everything else going on in his mind.

It shouldn't be surprising, seeing Julian act that way. Desperate, easily flustered. Self-sacrificing. It really went that far back, huh?

Perhaps the part that Kamui had trouble with was the sheer difference in how Julian spoke of Asra _now_ versus his behavior in the past. What was it he had called Asra—'a witch who fears commitment'? That would imply they had ever been together, which... wait.

Had they?

Kamui leans back in the desk chair, tipping his head back. The magic was gone; nothing more to guide him, nothing to be found. But he was still curious. Had they been together? There was clearly someone else in Asra's life already, but, that didn't really mean anything. Your heart could belong to multiple people. It didn't seem like Asra really liked Julian, though, so...

Hmm.

He leans back over the desk, resting his hand on the medical journal. There had to be something more to be found. Closing his eyes, he focuses his magic on the book, searching for a trace of the past, anything at all.

He feels something shift, sensation leaving him, and he opens his eyes.

Julian stands before him, hovering outside the front door of the shop. He paces anxiously for awhile, arms wrapped tight around his chest.

"Alright. You can do this. Just—Walk right in, and make him see reason."

With a renewed vigor, he reaches for the door handle, finding it unlocked. He steps inside, closing the door behind him.

"Alright, Asra, I—huh?" He stops, bemused by the sight of an empty room, devoid of the person he was here for.

Stepping farther inside, he suddenly spots a purple smoke drifting low through the room, curling around his ankles. There's a heady scent wafting throughout the area, the air thick with it; he finds it a bit harder to breathe without accidentally inhaling whatever it was. Disturbed, Julian calls out again for Asra, who steps out from behind a partition almost immediately, starling Julian with his sudden appearance.

"Ilya? I thought I told you I'd be fine walking myself home," he says, brows creased.

"Well, not—" Julian cuts off, coughing against his gloved fist. Asra remains completely unaffected by the oppressive purple fog permeating every corner of the shop, dizzying, bringing Julian to his knees on inhale. His hands tremble, as if held down by an invisible weight, pinning him. "What—What is this? What are you doing in here?"

Asra's lips curl. He steps towards Julian, his pace deliberate. From this angle, it's easy for him to reach out and thread his fingers into Julian's hair, tugging his head up to look him in the eye. "Can't you tell?" he asks, voice low, teasing. Pink blossoms across Julian's face, his eyes wide, breath hitching. Violet eyes roam across Julian's form, reduced to his hands and knees.

"Just a magic trick," he says, the intensity in his voice causing Julian to shudder, a soft sound passing through his lips before he can cover it up.

"S-Something from one of those ridiculous tomes?"

Asra titters. "Something from one of those ridiculous tomes," he confirms. His hand lowers from Julian's hair to his jaw, tilting his head around, studying his features. Julian's breath catches as Asra's thumb brushes just a little too close to his mouth, his body locking up. Asra hums. "Maybe I can find some use for you. If you're willing."

"Y-Yes—I mean," Julian stutters, averting his eyes as Asra smiles, amused. "Would this help with our research?"

Asra's eyes lid, uninterested. "Maybe it will," he says vaguely. "Maybe it won't." He drops his hold on Julian, standing tall and taking several steps toward the backroom, before turning back to Julian, still on the floor, watching him with wide eyes. "Well?"

Julian makes a choking sound before scrambling to his feet. "Coming, I'm coming."

Asra moves into the backroom without waiting for Julian to catch up; when the doctor makes it in, Asra's stood in front of a nearby table, a complicated magic circle drawn in white on its surface. The interior is much different from reality, items strewn about that Kamui's never seen Asra use before; he doesn't like the look of a lot of them.

"Blood. Bone. Sweat, and tears," Asra says. He brushes a hand against the edge of the table, turning halfway to face Julian, who hovers nervously nearby. "All make powerful catalysts for spells. I wonder, how much would you be willing to give, Ilya?"

"I—That is," Julian stammers, struggling to get his words out properly. He bites his lip, looking eagerly down at Asra, who returns his gaze with a look of indifference. "I'll give you all of me, if that's what it takes."

A laugh forces it's way out of Asra's throat. "Oh, Ilya," he purrs, sending a shiver down Julian's back at the sound of it. "I only need your hand for now."

Without hesitation, Julian tears the glove from his right hand with his teeth, shoving it out in Asra's direction. Asra raises a brow, but doesn't comment, grasping onto Julian's hand with both of his. The contact makes Julian's breath hitch.

Asra flips Julian's hand over, palm up, reaching behind him. He comes back holding an intricate ceremonial dagger. Julian's eyes widen at the sight of it, but not a single word is exchanged between them as Asra positions the knife over the edge of Julian's palm. It sinks in, perhaps a bit deeper than strictly necessary, and drags upwards; Julian gasps, smiling blissfully as his flesh is sliced open, a low, sinful groan escaping his lips.

Fresh blood bubbles forth from the open wound; Asra wraps a hand around Julian's wrist, dragging him over to the table. He angles him so his blood spills out onto the table, in the center of the circle, which begins to glow in response. Once that's done, Asra drops Julian's hand, focusing more on the spell than on him.

"I-Is that all?" Julian asks, grasping his wrist and holding his hand at an angle, the cut continuing to ooze blood. Asra laughs, startling Julian.

"Were you expecting something else?" Asra asks. He leans forward, tilting his head at an angle to peer back at Julian, only his left eye visible. "Perhaps you wanted me to hurt you more?"

Julian gasps, smothering the sound by tugging his lower lip between his teeth.

"That's all I needed from you, Ilya," Asra says, turning his head back around. The look on Julian's face would be hilarious in a different context; confusion, shock, frustration, disappointment.

"Wh—What did that even do?"

"We won't know until something happens," Asra says.

Julian's brows furrow, confused and more than a little put off by this whole situation. Before he can say anything, though, Asra turns around, striding right up to him and pulling his hand out of his own grasp. Startled, all Julian can do is watch, as Asra, zero hesitation, drags the flat of his tongue across the wound, lapping up the blood, maintaining full eye contact along the way. It stings in a wonderous way, causing Julian's breaths to quicken, sharp teeth pressing into his lower lip to keep quiet.

"You talk too much, Ilya," Asra says, his warm breath ghosting over Julian's skin.

"Th—Then tell me what to do instead," Julian responds, eager, earning a deep chuckle from Asra.

Smiling playfully, Asra's voice lowers seductively as he says, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Julian shudders at the sound of his voice.

Stepping forward, Asra's face closes in mere inches away from Julian's, a hand coming up to rest on the man's chest. Silver eyes fixate on the curve of Asra's lips, but Asra's looking elsewhere, taking in Julian's expression, every minute detail of his reactions.

Without warning he shoves the man forward, his back hitting a wall, breath knocked out of him. Asra doesn't move, staring up at Julian with lidded eyes, as if daring him to challenge his authority.

Of course, Julian wouldn't dream of it—the look on Asra's face, the aggression, the heavy tension...

"Y-You—Oh my god, yes, I'll do anything you want, anything at all, whatever you need—" The words spill out of Julian's lips unbidden, hungry and desperate.

"You know I can't give you what you want, Ilya," Asra says.

Julian drops to his knees, gazing up at Asra with hunger in his eyes. "I'll take what I can get," he says.

With an amused, caustic puff of breath, Asra smirks, drawing his hand through Julian's hair; Julian leans heavily into the touch, enough that he sways, nearly toppling over. Asra just laughs. He reaches down, cupping Julian's chin, tilting his head up.

"You'll take whatever I give you," Asra says. It draws a pitiful sounding noise from Julian, the doctor's hands raising to rest on either side of Asra's hips, fingertips grazing the waistband of his pants.

" _Please_ ," Julian begs, sounding so incredibly small.

Exhaling in amusement, Asra strokes his hand through Julian's hair, watching the man's eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh passing his lips. Julian nuzzles against Asra's thigh.

"Ilya," he says, receiving a quiet hum of acknowledgment in response. "Touch me."

Julian's eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat. "Really?" he asks, staring up at Asra in shock, the magician's expression bordering on dispassionate, distant. "Y-You're certain?"

"Before I change my mind, Ilya."

Stuttering, Julian is quick to reach for the buttons on Asra's pants, clumsily getting them undone. Fingers comb through his hair all the while, his face heating up, lips pressed tight. He hesitates only slightly, eyes flickering up towards Asra as if seeking permission, before pulling the magician's pants and briefs down past his thighs. Julian's breath hitches, taking a moment just to stare.

"Well?" Asra says, tightening his grip on Julian's hair and lightly pushing, urging him forward. It's incredibly effective; he dives right in, eagerly drawing his tongue up Asra's center, feeling him shudder. Inhaling a combination of Asra's scent and the magic wafting through the air, he can't help but groan, and Asra twitches in response.

"Oh, _Ilya_ ," Asra sighs beautifully. Julian's cock twitches at the sound. The magician's hands are tight, controlling, in his hair; the idea that he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to is thrilling to him, and he reaches a hand down past his waist. He doesn't make it very far, though, Asra's boot beating him to it, pressing down over his clothed erection, applying a nearly painful amount of pressure. He bucks his hips, groaning.

"Don't stop, Ilya," Asra says, pressing his foot down harder on Julian's dick as a warning. "You won't be cumming unless _I_ do."

"Oh, god," Julian rasps. He dips down, flicking his tongue inside Asra, feeling him throb against his lips. When he pulls back out to run his tongue up over Asra's clit, hands tighten around his curls, holding him in place as Asra starts to rub himself across Julian's tongue. Julian moans, grinding up against Asra's foot, needy, while wrapping his lips around Asra's clit, sucking enthusiastically. The magician laughs, breathless, at his eagerness, at how easy it was to get him to fall apart.

"I think I like you this way," Asra breathes, leaning over the top of Julian, his head resting against the wall. His face is flushed a deep red, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. "Putting that mouth of yours to better use."

In response, Julian moans, a shudder passing through his body. He moves his dominant hand from Asra's hip to push two fingers inside of him, curling upwards and rubbing him; the action draws a sound so delightful, so heavenly from the magician's throat that Julian can't help but attempt to mirror it. The demanding motion of Asra's hips grows more frantic, his breaths quickening; Julian attempts to look up, but finds he can't see anything of Asra's face, curled over the top of him. Eventually, Asra cums, giving Julian no warning whatsoever before pressing him tight against him; he barely makes a sound beyond a muffled sigh, covering his mouth behind a closed fist and grinding against Julian's mouth.

As the magician's hand starts to loosen it's hold, Julian pulls his away, laving his tongue across Asra, cleaning him, until he feels hands tug on his hair, urging him to pull back. Then Asra's boot is pressing down over him, tight, following along the shape of his dick through the fabric, and Julian gasps, eyes fluttering closed. His hips jerk, convulsing, the sound of his voice muffled against Asra's thigh, his arms wrapped around him as he bucks wildly against Asra's boot, seeking relief. In the end Asra does very little to help, waiting and catching his breath; not that it takes very long at all for the man to get off.

For awhile afterwards they remain there, catching their breath as Asra releases his tight grip on Julian's hair, smoothing his fingers through auburn strands. It doesn't take all that long, however, before Asra pries Julian away from his leg, fixing his clothes and taking several steps away from Julian.

"Wh—Where are you...?" Julian's voice trails off, dazed, reaching out with one hand as if to stop him. He watches, growing despondent as Asra leaves the room entirely. "A-Asra? Wait, where are you going?" He scrambles to his feet, stumbling and catching himself on the table. Mere moments after that, Asra returns, tossing a towel in Julian's direction. "Asra—"

"Go home, Ilya." The magician steps back out, without a care as to whatever Julian was about to say.

 

  
Kamui's eyes shoot open, disoriented, as if waking from a dream with all the subtly of being drenched with a bucket of ice water. Although, that wasn't exactly accurate; his face burned hot enough to feel like it was searing his skin, his clothes suddenly too tight, too restricting. Without thinking he pulls his scarf free, tossing it down onto the desk.

What just... was that... real? Did that really happen? They... they were...?

Kamui's head flops down onto the desk, hands covering his face. He fucked up. That vision wasn't supposed to go that far, this was wrong, he had intruded on something incredibly private. How was he supposed to look Asra in the eye after this? What was he supposed to say? 'Oh hey, Asra, I just saw you get eaten out by my ex in a vision of his past?' What the fuck?

His head slides down, staring down at his knees from under his hands. His eyes trail up, and... oh, good. He was hard. So there was that, too.

In good conscience, he couldn't allow himself to dwell on the more intimate details of what he had just witnessed. He also couldn't allow himself to keep this a secret. He just didn't do things like that. He prays his excuse of 'I had no idea what I was doing, and couldn't stop the spell manually' was good enough.

Or maybe he just shouldn't have fucking pried into Asra and Julian's private lives, but, well. It's not like he knew or even thought that was going to happen.

He takes a while to calm down, thinking of the least arousing things possible, before wrapping his scarf back around his neck and heading out. He just barely remembers to lock the door on the way.

So much for the investigation.

He ends up back at the garden, pacing. Back and forth, brain a frazzled mess, in front of the fountain. Where did he start? What should he say? He wasn't even sure how he was feeling, other than immensely guilty. Did he even deserve to ask questions, or should he jump right into apologies?

Seconds away from pulling out his hair in frustration, he plops down on the edge of the fountain, reaching for the emerald. However, he can't even get it out from under his scarf before the water ripples, a reflection other than his own appearing. Leaning forward on his hands, he watches Asra's form appear beneath the water's surface.

"Kamui. I was just thinking about you," Asra says, smiling warmly up at him. "You must have been busy. Faust looks like she's been put through the wringer."

Faust sidles up next to him, catching him by surprise. He hadn't even noticed she'd left, but now that she was back, it occurs to him that she wasn't there when he left the library.

"Is something on your mind?" Asra asks. His smile fades, expression marring with concern. "You're doing okay, right?"

"I... uh," Kamui starts, blanking. Oh god, what was he supposed to say? He chews his lip, looking away, eyes landing on something in particular.

"You look upset. Do you want to talk? Should I—"

"Asra," Kamui interrupts, "There's a willow tree, in the palace courtyard. By the fountain," he paces himself, pausing every so often to see if something changes in Asra's expression, some flash of recognition.

"I remember. I used to nap under it for hours, dreaming," he says, a wistful smile on his face as he reminisces. He hums, his smile fading. "What about it?"

"It, uh. It has my name carved into it."

Asra looks surprised. "It does?" Then, his eyes lid, some sort of emotion Kamui has trouble placing marring his features. "Oh. It _does_. I'd forgotten about the name... I was so lost in those days."

Kamui chews on his bottom lip. "Faust led me over to it, and I... I saw something. A memory, I think."

"What did you see?"

"Uh, well..." He explains, as best as he can, the vision he'd had in the garden. Asra listens intently, his face remaining fairly neutral. Perhaps too neutral, reacting to nothing in particular, not even when Kamui would pause, attempting to prompt a response.

So much for that.

"Who were you talking about?" Kamui blurts out. Immediately, he cringes, biting his lip. There's a twist of something uncomfortable in Asra's expression, and he looks away, water droplets dripping off his long lashes.

"I can't answer that," he says solemnly.

Kamui sighs, gritting his teeth. "Right. Of course."

"I'm sorry. I know how curious you are, but I can't say anything more about that," Asra says. "Is that all that happened?"

Kamui shakes his head, launching into the story of his time in the library, the visions of the past Faust shared with him. Again, Asra very carefully avoids reacting to most of it, in particular the memory of the costume shop. Kamui notices the difference. He isn't sure how to feel about it.

"I, uh." He averts his gaze, watching the reflection of the setting sun in the water. Was it really that late already? "I saw something else. But Faust didn't show it to me, I, looked into it myself."

There's a flash of something in Asra's eyes at that, something uncomfortable, or anxious, or perhaps scared. It was hard to tell; it was gone so fast.

"You, uh." Kamui blows air out of his mouth, ruffling his bangs. "I feel bad about this, Asra. I pried into your past and you didn't give your permission for me to see any of it, and it was one thing when it was just tea time and taking naps, but, I."

His face is turning red, he can just tell. This was so, so embarrassing, and to think about what he'd seen at all... he was ashamed to admit he liked it.

Asra's expression is openly concerned now. "What did you see?"

"I didn't know what I was doing," Kamui continues rambling, "I don't know how to turn the spell off after it starts, it just kind of, ran its course, I just wanted to know more about what you and Julian _were_ to each other, I didn't expect to—to—"

"Slow down," Asra says. Kamui turns back to meet his eye, seeing a touch of panic in Asra's expression, as if he already knew what was coming next. "Ilya and I, why would you want to know about that? There wasn't much to it."

Kamui laughs dryly. "Oh, I don't know," he says, the urge to hide his face in his hands growing exponentially. "I wouldn't say that ' _wasn't much_ '."

"Kamui," Asra repeats, "What did you see?"

"Ohhhh, I'm sorry," Kamui whines, unable to look Asra in the eye anymore, covering the upper half of his face behind his hands. "It was—right after the last memory Faust showed me. At the shop. The blood ritual."

There's a long silence following that, long enough that Kamui eventually peeks out from behind his hand, seeing Asra pale. "A-Asra?"

Asra's eyes are wide with shock. "You—How much of that...?"

"A-All of it?"

"All of it," Asra repeats, numb. He grimaces. "Oh, god. Kamui, I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to know about that. The whole thing was a mistake."

His voice is unexpectedly apologetic, and it takes Kamui by surprise, his hands falling by the wayside. "What— _you're_ sorry?! I intruded on your privacy! You didn't give your consent for me to view any of that!"

"I don't mind that," Asra says. "You can look at whatever you want, I just. Wish it hadn't been that, specifically."

"You'll really let me look at anything?" Kamui blinks, surprised. "Even the really embarrassing stuff?"

Asra laughs, "All of me. Even that."

"That's..." Kamui lowers his gaze with an embarrassed smile. "Filthy, Asra."

"I think we've already gone past that point," Asra says, amusement twinkling in his eyes, clashing with the lingering discomfort.

"We're making light of it already? It's only been a few minutes."

"It's less embarrassing that way, don't you think?"

Kamui laughs, causing Asra's smile to grow wider, more genuine, warm. "It's nice to see you smiling again," Asra says fondly; something about his voice has Kamui's heart rate speeding up. However, the magician's smile soon drops, expression marring with concern. "Kamui... I don't like keeping things from you. I know you're curious, and it probably seems like I'm making things needlessly difficult, but with your headaches, I don't know how much I can share. I don't know if I like you seeing these things on your own, either... what if something had happened to you? Something worse than before?"

"But I did it, and I'm fine," Kamui says, an edge of frustration to his tone. He continues, persistent, determined, "I saw one of my old memories. The costume shop; that was me, wasn't it? I can see it so clearly, even still, and it doesn't hurt. Is it really such a risk anymore?"

Asra's lips press into a fine line, brows creasing with discomfort. "I don't know if I can answer those questions by myself," he admits. He looks distinctly uncomfortable, averting his gaze as if pondering something, working through some sort of puzzle in his head. "Maybe... Maybe you _are_ ready. Maybe you've _been_ ready for a long time, and I just didn't want to risk it."

With some reluctance, Asra holds up his hand, the perspective making it look like his fingertips pressed right at the surface of the water. "Take my hand," he says. Skeptical, Kamui stares down at him. "Trust me."

Hesitant, Kamui reaches forward, fingertips grazing the edge of the water. He reaches in farther, feeling something solid and warm press up against him.

"H-How...?"

Asra smiles, looking really pleased with himself. Kamui intertwines his fingers with Asra's, and Asra gently pulls, submerging Kamui's forearm in the water. There's something strange about it which Kamui attributes to being some sort of spell; he allows himself to be pulled under, the fountain going deeper than it realistically should.

The world around him fades into pitch black, quickly gaining a purple aurora and glittering stars. He holds his breath but finds out he doesn't really have to, the scenery lulling him into a deep sense of security, eyes falling closed. There's a warmth around his hand, soft, familiar, which soon envelopes his body. Without a second thought he wraps his arms around it, feeling the soft silk of Asra's shawl beneath his fingertips.

When he turns his head to the side, the scenery around him has changed. Colorful dunes of sand stretch out in every direction, glowing insects flitting about over a pond reflecting the various colors of the sky, from the pinks and golds of a setting sun to the blues and greens of an aurora borealis. All the various plants vary in color from vivid red-violets to blue-greens, some shifting in hue depending on the angle.

Kamui steadily steps out of Asra's embrace, mesmerized by the world around him. "Where is this...?" He reaches out as something resembling a dragonfly passes by.

"It's a gateway, from one world to the next," Asra explains.

"It's incredible," Kamui breathes, turning back to Asra to see a light blush cover his cheeks. "Do you come here often?"

"A decent amount," Asra responds. Something about his answer feels like he's downplaying it. "Not as much lately. I made it as a child, so it's a bit juvenile..."

Kamui makes a small choking sound, "Wait, you _made_ this? Asra, that's incredible!" Asra's blush deepens, and he averts his gaze, flustered under all the praise. Kamui turns away, taking in the sights. "You're so good with color. I wish I saw the world like you did."

"It's not that special," Asra humbly deflects.

Turning back to Asra in an attempt to refute that, Kamui's halted by the sight of Asra holding out his hand. Turning slightly red, he slides his hand into Asra's, unsure as to why this felt different to every other time they'd held hands.

Asra takes a step out onto the pond, the surface of the water supporting his weight, allowing him to walk across it. Curiously, Kamui prods the water with the tip of his boot, surprised to find it willing to support him as well. Together they tread the pond's surface, heading for somewhere new.

"There's so many things I could show you here," Asra says. "Or things this place could show us."

The water ripples below their feet, changing color. Kamui gazes downwards, watching bioluminescent shapes dance within the water's dark depths.

"I need you to tell me if you start getting a headache," Asra says, drawing Kamui's attention back to him, his brows upturned with concern. He has his guard up, like he's so sure something might happen, and Kamui isn't sure why.

"Is that at risk?"

"It is if we try to get some of your missing memories back."

Kamui's eyes widen. "Does that mean you're finally going to talk to me about this?" He frowns, pouting. "What took you so long?"

"I've tried to tell you before," Asra says with a guilt-ridden expression. "Many times. It doesn't... turn out well."

"Define 'well'."

"The first time I tried to tell you, you went catatonic," he says.

"...Oh," Kamui says lamely, stopping in his tracks. Asra turns, studying his expression, his body language, gauging his reaction. "It was... that bad? I don't remember anything like that."

"That's by design," Asra says. "I had to take your memories away for you to turn back to normal. Nothing else worked. And I tried, believe me. I tried, and tried again, testing out different ways of telling you, and it went horribly wrong every time. It was getting to be too much, so I just... stopped."

Kamui stares down at the water beneath his feet, thoughtful. He had no idea Asra was struggling with this so much. Before, it felt like he was trying to be his parent, his overprotective, no-fun-allowed parent. Acting like there were things he couldn't know, perhaps until some nebulous time in the future, perhaps not ever.

"I don't like it," he says. "I get it, but I don't like it."

"I'm sorry. I hate keeping secrets from you, but I don't want to risk saying something that could end up breaking you irreparably. If you got hurt, and I couldn't fix it, I don't know what I'd do with myself."

Move on. Find another apprentice. One with a working brain, perhaps.

They step out on the other end of the pond, and Asra turns, meeting his apprentice's curious gaze. "...I didn't want to risk it," he admits, averting his eyes. "Is that selfish...?"

"No," Kamui responds, certain. "I apologize if I've been pushy, I'm just... curious. I feel like I have a right to know what my life was like before, and I don't know what else to do. You're the only person around that seems to know me. From before, I mean."

He reaches for the emerald, fidgeting with the gold cord.

Asra sighs, letting go to instead rest his hands on Kamui's biceps, meeting his gaze. "I don't know how much time we have left together, for tonight," he says. "I want to make the most of it. We have a whole world to explore together, if you want."

Kamui's jaw drops. "Of course I do," he blurts out, with the sort of tone that says, " _Did you even have to ask?_ " "I've only been hassling you to take me with you for what feels like my whole known life. You _jerk_."

Surprised, a laugh escapes Asra's lips, enough that he has to cover his mouth to hold it in. "Right, right. Of course. How absolutely villainous I've been," Asra teases. He turns back around, holding out a hand. "Come on, I want to show you something."

Hand-in-hand, they walk to the left, where an expansive jungle sprawls out along the horizon. It definitely wasn't there before, the world altering itself, perhaps to suit Asra's whims. Kamui wasn't sure. Asra leads him through the foliage, guiding his steps. Frequently he'll turn to look back, always seeming surprised to find Kamui still there with him.

Along the way, Asra speaks up. "I need you to know something," he starts, garnering Kamui's attention. "Ilya and I, we weren't... together. It never meant anything."

Kamui's lips part, thoughtful. He takes a second to contemplate this, to think over the way he saw them act around each other; Julian's heated, lingering gazes, Asra's coldness and indifference. It doesn't really sit right with him.

"Did you have to treat him like that?"

Asra starts, looking back at Kamui with an expression stuck somewhere between surprise and guilt. Kamui meets his gaze, feeling his own expression frost over, Asra grimacing slightly before turning away. "I... What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," Kamui responds. Asra sighs, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

"I went too far," he says, quiet, contemplative. "I didn't really care how he felt about any of it." He frowns, looking back at Kamui again. "I wish you hadn't seen any of that. I'm not really proud of it."

Kamui says nothing.

Soon they arrive in a clearing, softly glowing creatures fluttering about the area. One of them lands on Kamui's nose, and he goes cross-eyed attempting to look at it. It startles him to hear it chirp at him, a tiny, cute little noise like a baby bird with a bit of a trill.

"They like you," Asra says, lips curled into a smile. Several of the creatures flutter around Asra as well, nestling in his hair, brushing against his face. Kamui scoffs.

"Oh, yeah? And what do they like about me? My stunning good looks and charm?"

Asra's smile widens, his eyes narrowing into a more playful look. "They must feel very comfortable around you," he says. "Like they can trust you to be there for them. Like they know you would never do anything to hurt them."

Kamui blinks, surprised by Asra's more heartfelt response. He would have said something more lewd, if he'd been in Asra's position. Something more suggestive, at the very least. He should've known that wasn't Asra's style.

"Maybe you make them feel like they're at home when they're with you," Asra continues.

Kamui's lips press tightly together. It's harder to breathe suddenly, like he can't bring himself to open his mouth and _inhale_ , _exhale_.

Asra lets go of Kamui's hand, settling down in the sand in a cozy little flowery spot perfect for napping, in Kamui's opinion. He gets comfortable immediately, like he'd been here hundreds of times before, and he probably had been. Kamui curls up next to him, getting a little closer than intended, but feeling no desire to correct himself. Asra doesn't seem to notice.

Lying back, Kamui stares up at the stars overhead, ever-changing constellations swirling through the burst of colors. He turns to look at Asra, who's transfixed, eyes full of wonder, the lights reflecting in his eyes, on his hair, against his skin. The creatures, swimming gracefully through the air, dance across his frame. Kamui finds himself unable to look away.

Was Asra always this dazzlingly beautiful? Had he never noticed?

"I come here to clear my mind," Asra says, drawing Kamui's attention back to the magician's face. From this close, it's easy to see the reds and violets that make up the color of his eyes. "The way the stars change... it's soothing."

"It is beautiful," Kamui agrees, although he isn't actually looking. He's too busy observing the way the lights frame the shape of Asra's facial features, from the straight line of his nose to his soft cheeks down to the jut of his chin. Asra turns to look at him, startling Kamui out of his trance. There's no time to pretend he hadn't been staring, his heart racing from what he assumed was panic, but Asra doesn't look bothered. His smile doesn't so much as twitch.

"They remind me of you, you know," he says. For a second, Kamui worries he might have missed out on some sort of context; he wasn't as prone to zoning out as Asra was, but this place left him feeling so relaxed, so laid-back, he might as well be dreaming.

"Of... me?" he asks, purposefully vague. What did he mean? The _bugs_?

"Yeah, you," Asra says, exhaling with a slight chuckle. "I've looked up at the stars countless times and thought, 'I wonder if Kamui's doing okay...?'"

"On one of your travels?"

"Yeah. I even named a constellation after you," Asra admits, a bit of a shy look in his eyes.

Kamui scoffs humorously, glancing up at the ever-changing sea of stars. "What? Really? Which one?"

Asra leans back, angling his upper body so he can rest his head closer to Kamui's. He goes to point to something in the sky, lips parting, but he's interrupted by a sudden crash in the distance. They both turn in the direction of the noise, startled.

In the background, over the tree-tops of a nearby jungle, they can just barely make out the sight of pouring rain, shooting up towards the sky.

"Does that normally happen?" Kamui asks.

"I've never seen that happen before, no," Asra says. When Kamui turns to look at him, he's smiling in astonishment, amazed by what was apparently a new addition to a world he'd grown used to. "You must have brought the rains with you, Kamui."

Kamui sags. "Oh, great. This place can read emotions," he groans. The thought that the ugly, dull, cacophonous addition to an otherwise beautiful world could be his fault only served to renew his poor mood from earlier that morning.

Asra reaches out to give Kamui's hand a squeeze. "Let's go take a closer look," he suggests. It's hard to empathize with Asra's excitement, but his more energetic mood is just infectious enough to take the edge off.

Kamui allows himself to be pulled to his feet, Asra brushing the sand off Kamui's clothes. The grooming brings a light blush to Kamui's cheeks, and he knows—knows that with his lack of pigment, the slightest blush was impossible to conceal. Thankfully, Asra doesn't so much as glance at his face before grabbing Kamui's hand, urging him over closer to the storm.

The jungle curls in around them as they walk, vines and leaves appearing from nothing. Asra doesn't bat an eyelash, so Kamui doesn't either. Instead, he glances around his environment, less interested in the rain and more in the explosion of color around him, the lights, the wondrous creatures and sounds.

A deep, guttural noise grabs Kamui's attention, whipping his head around to somewhere beside him. The scenery changes, all dark, dull greens and browns, the sand turned to cracked gray earth. There's a path in the foliage, leaves and grass pressed down like someone had walked back and forth along it every day.

He turns to point it out to Asra, since he seemed to love new and ominous things appearing from the ether, but he's nowhere to be found. Kamui's hand is empty, cold, dry. The air turns thick and oppressive, a voice Kamui doesn't recognize drawing his attention back to the path. He stares down it, searching for movement, fists clenching at his sides challengingly.

An uncomfortably warm, humid breeze blows past him, a barely audible voice urging him to move forward. He's overwhelmed with the urge to investigate, without knowing why, rapidly forgetting where he was to begin with, or what he was doing.

"Kamui!"

Hands grasp his upper arms, pulling him back and twisting him around, away from the forest. He's pulled against a warm chest, arms wrapped protectively tight around his torso. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up, eyes adjusting to the bright oranges and violets that make up the scenery.

Asra pulls back, his eyes doing a quick sweep of Kamui's form, like he expected something to be missing. Confused, Kamui glances back over his shoulder, but there's nothing to be found. Nothing but sand.

"What... just happened?" Kamui mumbles, dazed.

"I should have warned you," Asra says, looking down at Kamui with tender concern in his eyes. "This place shouldn't try to hurt you, so long as you don't let it. Going down a dark path... next time, just turn away."

Asra coils an arm around Kamui's back, leading him away, a scornful eye cast on the area behind them, as if daring it to try something else.

They reach the edge of a cliff face, staring down into a deep ravine flooded with dark, nearly black storm clouds, streaked with lightning. It stretches on much farther than either of them had imagined, an entire region all to itself.

"Whoa," Asra breathes, amazed by the sight before him. "Is this all you?"

"How insulting," Kamui groans, lips curled back in a grimace. He glares down at the storm clouds. "They're just so—melodramatic."

He hears Asra suppress a laugh, and when he turns to look, there's a cheeky grin on his face, his gaze directed at Kamui. "It checks out with your taste in men," he says.

Kamui lets out a long, annoyed groan. " _Asraaaaaaa_!"

"What? I couldn't resist."

Asra reaches out to touch the rain, and it shifts the second it touches his skin, storm clouds pouring down over their heads, drenching them. He pulls his hand back, staring up at the clouds overhead, transfixed. Kamui follows his gaze; at first. He's quickly distracted, though, watching the water cling to Asra's long lashes, his hair soaked through, a look of open curiosity and wonder on his face.

Down to his torso, where his shirt clings to his skin, suddenly concealing a lot less. Kamui's face warms. He tears his eyes away, back up to Asra's face, to find the magician watching him intensely, something in his eyes that Kamui doesn't quite recognize. Red eyes trail down to Asra's lips, soft and inviting, his breath catching in his throat, and—

He looks away.

"We're going to sick out here," he mumbles, having to force the words out through a lump in his throat. "We should leave."

There's the sound of Asra clearing his throat, followed by, "I think you're right. It might not be wise to stay here any longer." His voice is quiet, barely able to be picked up over the pouring rain, but Kamui knows the sound of disappointment when he hears it.

The two head back the way they came, hurrying to outpace the clouds quickly spreading overhead. Before long they've reached the sunset pond from before, the sky returning to its natural hue, rain having all but vanished. They both take turns sighing, relieved and a touch exhausted.

"Well, that was something," Kamui says. Asra lets out an amused breath.

"I'm sorry that happened," he says, his tone light. "Regardless, I'm happy you came here, Kamui. Sharing this with you is an experience I'll treasure."

Kamui avoids looking at him directly, the sentiment warming his heart, and his face.

"I'll send you back now," Asra continues. "You should rest at the palace tonight. I'll see you tomorrow."

He steps closer to Kamui, who looks up at him with curiosity, and a touch of trepidation. Asra presses a hand over his eyes, concealing his vision; the sensation of a warm hand on his skin slowly fades, like sand falling through his fingers, vertigo overwhelming him as he feels himself fall.

He lands on his back, grass tickling his skin, a starry sky overhead. His legs dangle off the edge of the fountain, one of his boots touching the water before he can recognize its proximity. Feeling the water start to soak through his shoe he quickly pulls it out, flailing into an upright position.

Faust rests on the edge of the fountain, studying him. Kamui takes a moment to draw the water out of his boot before rising to his feet, dusting himself off, checking for stains. He's so preoccupied with his own vanity that the thought of what had just transpired escapes him.

Until after he's satisfied with his check, that is. It hits him like a ton of bricks after that.

_You almost kissed him. You were going to._

No, no, no. Asra was his friend, his mentor. For awhile there, his caretaker. That sort of thing—he wasn't thinking it. Wasn't thinking about how cute Asra looked, or how warm his hands were, or how soft his lips looked, none of that. Kamui's heart didn't race, his breath didn't still. His face didn't warm, and certainly not his body.

Nothing happened.

He's at the guest chambers before he knows it, his legs having dragged him there of their own accord. The second the door closes behind him, Faust slithers out of his jacket, finding a cozy place in the room to curl up for a nap.

Kamui walks over to the bed and flops down on top of it, not even bothering to undress. Lying perfectly still for several long moments, he eventually switches to being on his back. He reaches for the emerald, holding the reversed, glassy green heart over the top of his face, and he thinks.

 _This is familiar, isn't it_?

 

  
In the morning, he's summoned down to the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where the Countess awaits him with tea and scones already prepared. The sight of the baked goods has his stomach rumble embarrassingly loud, and he realizes he hasn't eaten since Asra made him breakfast the day before. It's a good ice breaker, as Nadia laughs softly at the sound, immediately offering Kamui not just his free pick of the scones, but any other delicacy his heart may desire. It makes his dread over facing Nadia after his many absences feel insignificant.

The conversation thankfully isn't anywhere near as bad as he'd feared; it's easy to get on Nadia's good side again, considering, from her point of view, he'd never really left. The day he'd spent with Julian, she'd been troubled by headaches too intense to focus on work, and the day afterwards, Portia had managed to convince her he was doing some very important research in the library. Neither of them _needed_ to know he hadn't really been focused on the investigation in all that time.

Or that he'd already found the accused. And had sex with him. That wasn't relevant.

They're in the middle of a conversation and Kamui's second scone when the chamberlain enters the room, requesting Nadia's attention.

"Announcing the arrival of the—"

They're cut off as a large, hooded figure Kamui doesn't recognize ascends the garden stairs, followed by a full troupe of palace guards. Nadia immediately stands, Kamui following suit not long afterwards; he watches, more curious than alarmed or afraid, as the figure pulls out two large pitchers of glittering water, pouring them out into a spiral that twirls higher and higher, forming a human shape. The hooded figure disintegrates into a pile of sand the second the guards descend upon them.

"...o-of the magician, Asra. Guards! I told you all about this! Why have you tackled?!"

"They usually do," comes Asra's voice, as the water solidifies, the magician in question rising gracefully from the crystal clear blue waves. "Good morning, Countess."

He removes his feathered hat and kneels before Nadia; Kamui studies her expression, seeing absolutely no recognition in her eyes whatsoever.

"How I've longed to put a face to that name," Nadia says.

They converse, leaving Kamui as an outside observer to their meeting. He watches, mouth full of one of the delicious citrus pastries laid out on the tea table, as the guards slink away, leaving Asra to meet with the Countess.

"That being said," Asra begins, his eyes catching on Kamui's, which widen slightly as he realizes the attention has shifted in his direction. "I hope you'll forgive me if this is out of line."

With a confident gait, he strides right over to Kamui, pulling his apprentice in tight against his chest. Kamui's heart races, but he returns the embrace all the same, Asra's breath warm against his neck. All Asra's hugs left him feeling like he never wanted to leave, and this was no exception.

"I see you missed your apprentice. How sweet," Nadia says, regarding the exchange with a warm smile.

"I hope you don't mind if I borrow him from you for awhile, Countess," Asra says after pulling away. Not quite following what was happening, Kamui stares back and forth between Asra and Nadia, catching Asra giving him a sideways glance, his expression too neutral to give anything away.

"Well, we are in the middle of an investigation," Nadia says, considering his request with an uncertain expression. Asra assumes his most charming smile before responding.

"We'll be working on honing his skills as a magician," he explains. He exchanges a glance with Kamui, a brief, silent conversation passing between them; the look on Asra's face is subtle, but the mischievous glint in his eye doesn't go unnoticed.

"Is that so?" Nadia's lips quirk into a pleased smile. "His skills have been most invaluable to me thus far. Very well. Enjoy your lesson, Kamui. Asra." She nods to both of them in turn, politely dismissing them.

Asra smiles, and Kamui can't help but think he looks a little _too_ pleased to have her permission. With a polite bow he turns his gaze on Kamui, who quickly stuffs the remainder of his scone in his mouth, downing his tea. They leave, side by side, right afterwards.

Once they've left the palace proper, Kamui speaks up. "What was that about? Is something going on?"

"Nothing," Asra says with a playful quirk of his lips. "I meant what I told the Countess. Although, I left a few details out." He exchanges a sly look with Kamui, who rolls his ruby eyes, amused. "Anyway, Kamui, I need to talk to you." Kamui winces.

"You'll have to excuse me if I'm not exactly super thrilled to hear someone tell me we need to talk," Kamui says with a grimace.

Asra cringes, "Oh. Sorry. Poor choice of words."

Kamui waves his hand dismissively. "It's fine. But if you're going to tell me you're moving out of the shop or something, I'll kill you."

"No, nothing like that," Asra says with a small laugh. "You'll have to find some other reason to kill me."

"Darn."

They're nearing the market by the time Asra speaks again. "I'm leaving Vesuvia for a few days," he says, quickly amending his statement before Kamui can react too negatively, "And I want you there with me."

Kamui's expression swaps from annoyed and frustrated to surprised and hopeful in an instant. He perks up. "Wait, really?"

"Yes, really," Asra responds, a fond smile on his face as he regards his suddenly energetic apprentice. "But before we go, I thought we'd take a trip through the market. We're going to want a few supplies before we go."

"Supplies..." Kamui absentmindedly repeats, just now noticing they were entering into the market itself. Once the word fully processes in his mind, he gasps, "Wait! I don't have my bag. I left it back at the—"

Asra reaches into his satchel, pulling out an ivory knapsack with swirling gold embroidery and long, leather straps dyed a vivid red. It's too large to have fit inside Asra's bag, but Kamui doesn't question the pull for a second, gratefully accepting the bag from Asra's outstretched hand.

"Anything else?" Asra asks, a mischievous grin forming on his face. "Perhaps some silk robes and a horse drawn carriage, Your Highness?"

Kamui lightly nudges Asra in the ribs. "Oh, shut up." He pulls the bag on over his shoulders, where it sits low on his back.

They stop by for some pumpkin bread from their favorite baker, which Asra keeps wrapped up inside his bag for their travel. Inbetween stops, Kamui can hardly contain himself.

"Where are we going?"

"That's a surprise," Asra says, grinning deviously.

"For you, or for me?"

With a laugh, Asra answers, "Perhaps both. We'll have to find out."

"Mysterious. I like it," Kamui says, smiling as he looks up at the bright blue morning sky overhead. "Is there anything I should know about this? I don't remember ever sleeping in the woods before. Or, wherever it is you sleep when you travel."

"Most people would call that 'camping'," Asra teases. "You'll find out when we get there, won't you? Don't worry, I'll try not to offend your delicate sensibilities."

Kamui huffs, but it lacks any real bite. "I'll show you _delicate_."

"You think you can manage not to stop to cast cleaning spells on your clothes every time the grass stains them?"

"I hate you."

Asra just smiles, smug.

And, this—the friendly repertoire, the easy way the words come to him, the ease at which Kamui can carry himself—this is exactly what he liked about spending time with Asra. It was normal. This was what he wanted.

Not—whatever last night had been.

 

  
The cave Asra leads him into is covered in bioluminescent plants and crystals. It isn't necessary to voice aloud that the cave is a magical hotspot for him to know it is. While walking, Asra explains that there's a spring farther ahead they're looking for, and he encourages Kamui to take the lead in getting there.

"Alright," he readily agrees, gazing curiously around the cave. When he catches Asra's eye, he's smiling warmly over at him.

"You've got this aura of confidence today," Asra comments. "I'd hate to be the one who gets in your way."

The praise has a smile forming on Kamui's lips, boosting his mood just enough for Asra's words to feel like the truth.

They part with Faust at the cave entrance, much to Kamui's bemusement, but he isn't given an explanation as to why. He accepts it anyway, his trust in Asra enough for him to disregard his curiosity.

They walk absentmindedly through different pathways, which shift dramatically in width along the way. Eventually they reach a cavern filled with water, which Asra notes as significant.

"It hasn't been like this in years," he says.

He presses his foot into the center of a large lily pad, which resists the force of his weight, maintaining a float. While Kamui stares down at it in curiosity, Asra explains how he'll need to follow the path the pads form to the center, where a single flower lies in wait; their end goal. And he'll need to do it alone.

"Doesn't sound hard," Kamui says, and Asra gives him an approving smile, boosting his spirits.

"Just keep moving forward," Asra instructs.

With his encouragement, Kamui takes a step out onto the first lily pad. It holds under his weight, lightly bouncing. Experimentally, he hops from one to the next, growing bolder with each one as they all continue to hold his weight. Proud of his progress, he glances eagerly back at the shoreline to find it's grown significantly farther away than what seemed possible. Asra's expression has changed, his body tense and perfectly still, watching his apprentice with a fretful look. That doesn't leave a very good taste in his mouth.

Facing forward, he finds the pads have grown far wider and longer. All he can think is— _that was a mistake_. There was some kind of spell at play here, and he broke it. He must have. Regardless, he steels his nerves and continues ahead, the flower much farther away but still within his sight-line nonetheless.

Eventually he has the flower in hand, the glowing bloom much larger than it seemed on the shoreline. Naturally he thinks to bring it up to his face to smell, only for the lily pad beneath his feet to start sinking. He catches a whiff of the flower's scent before lowering it, feeling the water licking at his boots before he's hit with a memory.

_Arms wrap around his body, sopping wet, breaking the surface of the water. He chokes as liquid threatens to fill his lungs, Asra's voice calling his name, wavering and scared._

_"You were so far away!"_

_"Maybe you weren't supposed to look back. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have brought you here. Please, I need to teach you a spell, right now. If you remember to use it, this will never happen again."_

He holds his breath, right as his body crashes through the water.

Looking around, he sees his hair swirling around his head, the lights and colors of the cavern shining through the water, pulling Kamui into a world all his own. He quickly finds he doesn't need to breathe, his chest light, lulling him into a deep, dreamlike state.

Something shifts in the water nearby. Languidly he turns his head to see Asra diving into the watery depths, his arms outstretched, grabbing Kamui by the arms. It's around this point that he realizes something important, something that had never come up in recent memory.

He doesn't remember how to swim.

Asra looks immensely relieved to see Kamui return his gaze so casually; completely relaxed and unafraid, staring up at him with curiosity. Hooking his arms under Kamui's elbows, he pulls his apprentice upwards.

They breach the surface, Kamui clinging to Asra's back as they make their way to the shore. Asra pulls Kamui up onto the smooth rock with him, heaving a sigh of relief when Kamui doesn't immediately pass out or proceed to cough up gallons of water.

Kamui pulls himself up on his hands and knees, turning his head to look at Asra, who's sopping wet, his shirt hanging off one shoulder in a particularly enticing manner. Ruby red eyes make contact with Asra's bare, dripping wet chest, spotting one of his nipples before turning away in embarrassment.

Not that he's in too much of an improved state; sure, the majority of his body remained covered, but he looked a mess. He starts wringing the water from his now horribly flat hair at around the same time that Asra starts to laugh.

"You remembered," he says, astonishment dancing in his eyes. "I was so worried, now all I want to do is hold you."

The response slips from Kamui's lips before he can even process it. "Then do it."

Asra blinks, surprised. "Huh?"

"Hold me," Kamui says, meeting Asra's gaze head on with a weird degree of intensity. He had meant it as—something normal, the same sort of comfort they always offered each other. But the way it came out of his mouth didn't exactly line up, and he can tell by the look on Asra's face that he notices it, too.

Regardless, he laughs, covering up whatever reaction he might have had to the weird change in mood. "May I? Lucky me," he teases, and Kamui rolls his eyes, but holds out his arms invitingly nonetheless. Asra curls up in them without hesitation, pulling Kamui flush against his chest with a soft sigh. His slick skin clings to Kamui's front, and he finds himself wishing there wasn't a layer of fabric between them.

"You did so well," Asra says, somewhere by Kamui's ear. "I was worrying over nothing..."

The praise warms Kamui's face, and without thinking about it, he rubs his cheek against Asra's, feeling the warmth blossoming across the magician's skin, as well. Asra laughs, pulling Kamui even tighter against his chest, nearly throwing the man off balance.

"It feels good to get to hold you like this," Asra sighs, his voice lowered to a near whisper, almost as if Kamui wasn't supposed to hear it. Like it wasn't actually supposed to be said aloud. "I wasn't sure I'd get the chance to again."

Kamui frowns. What did he mean by that? They held each other all the time; actually, they'd done it earlier that day. And the day before, and the night before that. Literally every day since he'd been back.

Asra's arms tighten, a soft sigh passing his lips, and that's when Kamui realizes. Their bodies, pressed flush against each other, not an inch of space between them. Asra's breath on his neck, lips brushing past skin, a soft hand on the nape of his neck. This was... strangely intimate.

When... had they ever done this before?

Asra starts to pull back, enough to meet Kamui's eye. "Are you okay? Your breath got shallow." He blushes, averting his gaze. "Was it too tight...?"

He loosens his hold on Kamui's back, his hands sliding to rest at the curve of his back. It doesn't help to ease the tightness in Kamui's chest, or in his throat, for that matter.

"First I put you in harm's way, and now I have to squeeze the life out of you," Asra nervously chuckles.

He's grown more jittery, Kamui notices; his hands trembling, smile uncertain, strained. Kamui just observes him in silence. Searching his face, his body language, for any sort of clue. Something to confirm his suspicions, that there was something else going on here, something Kamui wasn't privy to, but should be.

With a wistful sigh, Asra lowers his head, face hidden, his damp hair resting against the flat of Kamui's chest. "It's just been awhile since I've had a scare like that," he explains. "I'm the one who was supposed to keep my cool, but I didn't even think before I jumped in. I just... assumed the worst. Now I need your heartbeat to soothe me."

Kamui's heart does a flip at that, beating wildly against the confines of his chest. Because of course it would.

"Are you alright? Your heart sped up," Asra asks, because _of course he would_ , concern laced into his tone.

"I'm more worried about you," Kamui deflects.

Asra hums, the vibrations sending a chill down Kamui's spine. He pulls away, meeting Kamui's eye. There's something there, his smile absent, a certain fear, _dread_ hanging in his amethyst eyes, and all at once Kamui is lost, unsure how to respond or react. His voice wavers as he says, "Kamui... Do you know what would happen to me, if something happened to you?"

A pit forms in Kamui's stomach. What would happen?

_Nothing._

Nothing would change. Except now, there would be no one to complain when he left for days on end, only to be back for a day, tops, before running again. No one clinging to his side every second he was back, putting his life on hold.

_Nothing. Nothing. You mean nothing to him._

Kamui's lips tremble, but he holds back. _Shut your brain off. Shut it off._ He forces himself to meet Asra's eyes, not liking the intensity of his gaze.

"What... What would happen?" he asks anyway. He barely hears his own voice as it comes out of him, the noise in his head too loud; if not for the vibration in his throat, he might think it hadn't happened at all.

"What would happen..." Asra starts, his gaze lowering, raking across Kamui's frame as if afraid he might forget what he looked like. Eventually, he returns his attention back to Kamui's eyes, like precious gemstones, glittering red. "Do you really want to know?"

 _No. Yes. I don't know._ He swallows past a lump in his throat. His skin buzzes, and it's not a pleasant feeling, his fingers stiff against Asra's waist. "Yes," he answers. He sounds more certain than he feels.

Asra's hands tighten around Kamui's sash, nearly enough to tear the fabric. Sitting up straighter, he raises a hand to Kamui's cheek, brushing aside damp hair. There's a strange look in his eyes, a certain wildness.

"I would lose it," Asra says, so much emotion and sincerity in those four words that suddenly breathing doesn't feel like a thing Kamui does anymore. " _Everything_. My wits, my reason, my judgement..."

He feels like he's burning up from the inside out. Is that how Asra really felt? It didn't make any sense. Why would anything change? Why would it matter? What would fall apart? Why would he lose anything?

Asra's hands press into Kamui's face, a delicate caress. If he weren't so distracted, it might've had more of an effect on him. As it was, all he could do was stare, down at Asra's collar, water clinging to his skin. He knows what Asra's skin feels like first hand; soft, warm. Comforting.

_Please._

_I need you._

"Kamui," Asra says. There's a hint of concern to his tone that has Kamui forcing himself to look back up. The movement alone has Asra letting go of a breath, the hard line of his shoulders loosening. He brushes a thumb across a dripping wet cheekbone, soothing, soft. "It would _ruin_  me to lose you."

Why? Why would it...?

His chest hurts, like there was something coiled tight around his heart, his lungs. Why did he feel like needed to hear Asra repeat himself, yet never wanted to hear any of this ever again, lest the pain in his chest become too much? Could his heart possibly just burst?

_Need me. Need me. Please._

"Sorry," Asra says softly, something like guilt in his eyes as he glances over Kamui's expression. "Was that too much...? I didn't mean to get so intense..."

He pulls Kamui back against his chest, and Kamui goes easily, coiling his arms around Asra like he needed to feel his body heat, or he'd die. Maybe it _was_ too much. He wanted to run far, far away. Back to where they were ribbing each other, gentle laughter and easy smiles. It made sense then. This, this didn't make sense at all.

_What else was he going to say? That he hates you, that he would've preferred you drowned in that river?_

Asra would never say that. Even if it was the truth, even if he hated Kamui, even if he was running to escape a life he didn't want, away from the cloying, overemotional _parasite_ that was his apprentice, he'd never say it. He was too kind.

"I'm sorry," Kamui mumbles. "I'm being really weird about this."

"It's alright, Kamui," Asra reassures. "Was that... something you needed to hear?" And, just like that, his tone shifts, guilt taking root. "Do I not tell you what you mean to me enough...?"

"You could stand to repeat it," Kamui says, voice thick. He isn't sure how he comes across; did it sound more like a joke, or more like resentment? Which would he prefer Asra heard...?

"I'm sorry," Asra says, chuckling dryly; more like a joke, then. "You're... you're my best friend, Kamui. It would kill me to lose you."

The end of his sentence sounds off; like there's more to it than what he actually said.

"Really...?" Kamui asks, his fingers tightening around the back of Asra's jacket. For some reason, the admission fills Kamui's chest with something—warm. Light. Giddy.

Asra's grip tightens, one of his hands threading into Kamui's hair, stroking damp strands in just the right way, that has Kamui nearly purring, turning into putty in his arms. "Of course. You mean so much to me, I..." he trails off, hesitating. Kamui waits patiently, a lot less wound up with Asra's hand in his hair.

"I worry about you. It scared me, seeing you drop into the water like that, so much that I just dived in without thinking. Who knows what could have happened? This pool is powerful, we could have swapped bodies by accident."

"I wouldn't have minded that," Kamui says, the flirtation tumbling from his lips on automatic. He feels Asra's hand twitch, clearly not having expected the shift from emotional to comedic. To be fair, Kamui hadn't either; but he was always desperate to lighten the mood.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised to hear you say that." Asra chuckles, pulling back to look Kamui in the eye. His expression is fond, warm. For a brief second, he leans in closer, quickly aborting the action to lean farther away instead.

With a steadying sigh, Asra pushes up to his feet, offering a hand to help Kamui up. "I'm sorry for making things so gloomy," he apologizes, pulling Kamui to his feet. "That's the last thing you need right now, I imagine."

"No, it's okay. I just... I was thinking too much," he sighs. "Can we forget about it?"

"Does that mean you _don't_ want daily reminders that I still like you?" There's a teasing edge to his voice, but the severity of his tone drowns it out. It's clear to Kamui that it's something he's truly worried about, and that just makes Kamui feel worse.

_Of course he likes you. Way to go, making him feel guilty for no reason._

"Y-You don't have to," Kamui says. _Please tell me._ "It's fine." _I need to hear it._

There's a strained smile on Asra's face, and that tells Kamui everything; he doesn't believe a single word.

 

  
Back in the forest, Kamui can't keep his eyes in one place for much longer than a few seconds, so many new sights and colors available for his eyes to witness. Drawings glow on the walls, in varying colors, left behind by magicians past, whirls of magic curling through the air like paint across a canvas.

"Your eyes are opened," Asra explains, "For a short while."

_There you are._

Kamui flinches, head whipping around in every direction.

"Did you just hear a voice?" Asra asks. Kamui turns to see a disturbed look on his face, his eyes scanning the forest for the source of the sound.

"That's not supposed to happen, right?"

Asra shakes his head slowly, too preoccupied with his search of the forest around them to look away. Cautiously, he moves closer to Kamui, reaching out to touch his bicep as if to make sure he's still there.

The noise reappears, but it's warped, warbling, rising sharply in pitch until it's nearly impossible to make out, an unintelligible jumble of sounds barely resembling a human voice. It's enough to sour the beauty surrounding them, making every ashen tree root and glowing tendril seem ominous, putting the both of them on edge.

"This isn't good," Asra says. "If you can hear him... then I'm sure you can see him, too."

"'Him'?" Kamui repeats, frowning.

"You've spent a few days... a few nights, at the palace. Did you ever encounter anything you couldn't explain? A voice, or a creature that disappeared if you tried to look too close?"

"You mean..." Kamui trails off, flashes of nearly forgotten imagery flowing freely through his mind. The taunting, yet inviting voice, guiding him through the hall. The ghastly, ethereal afterimage of a goat with matted fur, walking on its hind legs with one of its arms torn off. Portia's gossip about there being a ghost in the Count's old wing; the twin dogs, urging him towards it.

That was... all real?

"I've seen it," Kamui continues, disturbed. "In Count Lucio's old wing. It called out to me, I... barely remember what it said. I actually forgot about it entirely, until just now."

A shiver runs down his spine at the memory.

A shadow falls over Asra's eyes. With a sigh, he says, "I'm not surprised. There's something strange in the palace. Something not of this world, and it started with him." His eyebrows furrow into a cold glare. " _Lucio_."

"Seems like a lot of problems stem from him, huh," Kamui comments. "Next, we'll find out he started the plague."

"You know, at this point, it wouldn't surprise me," Asra says. "I haven't seen him in awhile. I have a lot of protections up, so he can't come anywhere near me. Not that he could do much, even if he tried; he's too weak." He pauses, searching Kamui's expression with a fretful look of his own. "I hope he didn't scare you."

"He didn't," Kamui readily says. "I mean, yeah, it was creepy. But I wasn't afraid. More just... morbidly curious, I guess. I probably shouldn't have paid him so much attention, huh."

"I don't blame you," Asra says carefully. "But in the future, it would be best if you didn't listen. I know it's hard, but you can't give in to him. He's starved for attention."

"I understand."

Asra nods, an uneasy tenseness marring his features. "I hope so."

Kamui's stomach decides to take that opportunity to rumble, breaking through the tense atmosphere. Asra turns to him in surprise, before bursting into a laugh, indignant warmth spreading over Kamui's face.

"You should've told me you were hungry," Asra says, a lighthearted smile on his face that puts Kamui more at ease.

"I'm not," Kamui deflects, but Asra's playful grin bores into him, disbelieving.

"Mmhmm," Asra sarcastically hums, quickly scanning the environment. "Why don't we take a break? I know a good spot nearby, where you can continue to be ' _not hungry_ ' while we _don't eat_ anything."

Kamui huffs. "You're the worst."

"I'm a delight," Asra says. Kamui lightly shoves his arm.

They head over to a clearing in the woods, a collection of star-shaped charms dangling from one of the trees. Kamui studies the charms while Asra arranges a spot for them, setting his bag down beside a log big enough for them to sit on. For a brief second, Kamui considers reaching out to touch the charms, going so far as to raise a hand in their direction, before remembering the concept of caution. He turns back to look at Asra.

"Did you make these?"

"A while back, yeah," Asra responds, regarding the worn charms with a soft sigh. "You know things are bad in the city when you need to hide in the woods... Here, you can finish off the bread. I'll start a fire."

He hands over the package of pumpkin bread, which Kamui accepts despite the less than thrilled look on his face. While Asra arranges stones around a campfire, Kamui takes a seat, setting his bag down opposite Asra's and unfolding the bread's packaging.

The sight of blue flames flaring to life high up out of the makeshift fire pit draw his attention. He watches with interest as Asra struggles to tame it. The fire dies down very quickly, leaving it at an underwhelming level. Kamui carefully sets the bread aside before kneeling down in the dirt next to Asra.

"My magic is a bit more potent today," he says, smiling sheepishly over at Kamui. "Do you want to give it a try?"

Wordlessly, Kamui stretches a hand out toward the fire. The flames react to his magic with minimal effort, shifting in color to a much warmer hue before erupting upwards in a sudden arch, as if someone had set off fireworks in the center of it. Startled, Kamui jumps away from it, falling backwards as Asra laughs in the background.

"Careful," Asra warns, but he's still laughing even as he helps Kamui back onto his feet. "I forgot. You're a lot better at fire magic than I am..."

Shaking off his nerves, Kamui wiggles his fingers at Asra. "I have magic hands."

Asra smiles coyly. "Oh? Do you, now?"

Warmth spreads to Kamui's cheeks, but he ignores it, sending Asra a playful wink and earning a laugh in return.

They settle on the log bench together, Asra stretching out his limbs like a sleepy cat while Kamui picks at the bread. Settling into a more comfortable position, Asra turns his gaze on Kamui, raising a brow.

"Do you need me to feed you?" he asks, grinning teasingly. Kamui huffs, plopping a chunk of the bread into his mouth. The smile on Asra's face soon vanishes, replaced with a more disquieted one as Kamui chews agonizingly slowly, reluctant to actually swallow his food. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just," Kamui starts, forcing himself to swallow rather than speak with his mouth full. "I mean. I've already eaten today," he says, as if that explains everything perfectly.

"Most... people eat several times in a day," Asra drawls, glancing over Kamui's thin frame with concern. The magician in question avoids his gaze, staring down at the bread in his lap, which he spends more time picking apart than actually eating. "You used to have such a voracious appetite..."

"I _know_ ," Kamui groans. Frustrated, he leans back against a nearby tree, stretching out his legs. "I'm just... preoccupied. And it ends up making me feel sick anyway."

"Of course you feel sick. You're not eating enough," Asra says, his worry quickly growing to something bordering on alarm. Kamui quietly huffs, ignoring Asra's concerned looks. He didn't understand. He couldn't.

"Maybe I should start bringing you sweets again, like I used to."

That gets Kamui to light up, directing his attention back to Asra with stars in his eyes. "What, like those little fruit cookies, with the paste in the middle?"

"Macarons," Asra corrects.

"Oh my god, yes. I love those." Kamui pops more of the bread into his mouth, too distracted to remember to pace himself. He almost doesn't finish chewing before speaking again. "What about that one thing, with the glaze and all the nuts, and the fish eyes, I think?"

"You liked those?"

"They were _so weird_ , I fell in love," Kamui says.

Asra laughs, "A man after my own heart."

They continue conversing until Kamui's managed to work through nearly half the remaining loaf, at which point he passes it to Asra, who finishes off the rest. The package is then folded up and placed back inside Asra's bag. They take a moment to relax, Kamui stretching out his limbs with an exhausted groan.

"Kamui," Asra starts, breaking the silence. His voice is more serious than before, garnering Kamui's attention right away. "I think you should avoid going back into Lucio's old wing."

"Pity, I was planning a picnic in there when we got back," Kamui jokes. At Asra's lack of reaction, he adds, "Seriously. I really don't want to go into the creepy old haunted part of the palace."

To his surprise, Asra looks entirely unconvinced. "You won't find anything good in there," he warns. "I can't promise he won't try to come find you. A friend of mine's said they've seen him, slinking through the woods. At first it was just a shadow, now it's a fully formed apparition; a white goat with red eyes walking on two legs."

"That sounds like what I saw," Kamui says. "It's not just in the palace... what does that mean?"

"I don't know yet. I'm going to lay some protections on you before we bring you back there, but, first... I want you to see him," Asra says, a twinge of discomfort in his expression. "Once you have, I don't think he'll be able to hide from you again."

"And how are we going to..."

Asra stands, gaze falling on something behind the log, and Kamui follows his eyes to a pale shape, darting just out of view. Faust takes that opportunity to turn up, shooting up Asra's form to curl around his shoulders.

" _Him!_ "

"I know," Asra says. "Where is he now?"

Faust says something Kamui can't make out—or perhaps nothing at all—before diving frantically into Asra's shirt, hidden from view. On instinct, Kamui raises to his feet. Asra turns to face him.

"Kamui, let's climb up this rock. We'll be able to see him from there."

From atop the heavy stone, Kamui's viewpoint expands; in the distance, the towering form of the palace looms, leaking a pungent red aura. His eyes follow it down into the fields, stretching out towards the stumbling figure of a goat, flickering in and out of existence. Its bold red eyes stand out even from a distance, staring right into Kamui's soul.

This was... all that was left of Count Lucio. A ghastly beast clinging to his old life by a thread, continuing to terrorize his people even after death.

_Yessss. You know me._

The figure's form flares to life suddenly, a stark pearlescent white against blood red, causing Kamui to flinch, nearly falling off the rock.

_And I know you, Kamui._

Kamui grits his teeth, projecting the biggest mental " _fuck you_ " he can manage, hoping it would reach Lucio somehow. It does wonders for chasing away the instinctual fear that grips him at the sound of his own name echoing through his mind, growing louder and raising in pitch, ringing in his ears.

With a slight growl, Kamui groans, "Fuck _off_ ," only to find he can't even hear the sound of his own voice over the noise in his head. Had he spoken at all?

A hand wraps around his bicep, pulling him back to reality. The noise in his head vanishes in an instant as Asra pulls up beside him, looking out into the field with a dark expression. Bitter hatred broils in his eyes hot enough to burn someone inside out, staring down Lucio's otherworldly form, unafraid.

"Go away, Lucio," he says, cold and unfeeling.

The apparition's form instantly dims, attention snapping toward the sound of Asra's voice. It hunches down, slinking away, shrinking in size until it vanishes entirely.

Kamui's eyes linger on where it used to be, frowning.

Asra's hand pulls back, and the two slide off the edge of the rock in a bit of a daze. Kamui instantly sets to pacing, his legs frustratingly unsteady beneath him, wobbling whenever he stands still for too long.

"Did he speak to you, in your mind?" Asra asks, following Kamui's pacing with his eyes. When there's no response, he speaks more firmly, "Kamui, please."

"It's... It wasn't like that before," Kamui manages, sorting through the leftover noise in his head. "And he—He knows my name? How does he know my name?"

"He does?" Asra's eyes widen, then narrow, staring off somewhere in the distance. "Oh. I guess he does."

He steps forward, blocking Kamui's path, placing both hands on either of his arms to halt his frenetic pacing. "Please, you're making me nervous," Asra pleads. Kamui's shoulders slump, legs locking up. "Just—don't listen to him, okay? Don't let him get to you."

"Did he say something to you, too?"

"He was telling me what he was going to do to me," Asra says, looking a bit perturbed by the thought, but he quickly recovers, his lips curling into a devilish grin. "I told him to try it. He didn't."

 _That's so hot_ , Kamui wants to say, but bites his tongue.

"He's not so scary," Asra reassures. "Does that make you feel a bit better?"

Kamui forces a laugh. "What's to fear about the demonic ghost of a long dead royal? He can't even use furniture anymore."

Sensing his unease, Asra does his best to laugh along with him, offering up a small smile. "Well, I'd feel a lot better if we got some protections on you."

 _Me too_ , Kamui thinks. He had enough to worry about without adding ghosts to the list. Especially the ghost of what he was told was probably the most obnoxious man to ever live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perhaps a weird place to stop but these chapters are all just shorter parts of bigger story sections and I didn't plan any of them to have cuts


	4. Chariot - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to unnecessarily hype this but this is my favorite chapter So Far (although at this point I've only written as far as Strength)

There's an ominous, oppressive rumbling in his ears, and when he opens his eyes, his viewpoint is limited; seeing nothing but a bubbling, dull red, his periphery cut off entirely. His throat clogs and he feels himself gagging, something thick and round clawing it's way out of him. He chokes, and something dislodges from his throat. When he looks down, he sees pale hands, fingernails painted black, a glowing red rose in full bloom resting on the palms.

It doesn't stop there; roses at varying stages of life continue to fall from his mouth, the feeling in his throat never clearing, suffocating him. He struggles to breathe, to swallow, to speak, to do anything but claw at his own throat, tears soaking his cheeks, hot as acid, searing his skin.

It gets harder and harder to see, the floor changing to something else each time he opens his eyes, from the decaying ruins of a burned building, to the floors of the palace halls, to dry, cracked dirt, to nothing at all. He stumbles backwards and feels something catch him, alive and comforting, flooding his body with warmth. But the figure soon becomes impossible to distinguish, the heat searing, picking apart his flesh like thousands of hungry insects.

He chokes on a flower and stares down at his hands, vines tearing into his wrists, blood dripping down his skin, but he can't feel it. His fingernails aren't painted; rather, ash stains his skin, pulling upwards like some sort of curse. It feels disgusting; sticky, yet dry. An acrid smell assaults his senses, like burning leather and decay, alongside a scent he can't identify yet feels he knows all too well, and he hears—

_I'm sorry—I didn't know—_

 

  
Kamui jolts to awareness, heart thudding wildly in his chest, skin damp with sweat. He fights against weary eyes not willing to be open again, mind clouded with sleep, resisting him. Desperate to be free of the realm of dreams he scrambles into a sitting position, swiping his hands against the bedroll as if the ash still clung to his skin.

He pulls his legs in tight, hands pressed against his eyes, willing the tears to stop. It takes an insurmountable amount of effort, his body attempting to choke him just for attempting it, and he's forced to let go of a sob just to breathe again.

It doesn't go unnoticed. Which was the whole reason he attempted to keep it down, to imprison it inside of him. But that was too late now, wasn't it?

"Kamui?"

Asra's voice is gentle, like he thinks anything more would be too startling, and would send Kamui darting into the woods like a deer. The sound of rustling fabric signals his approach, but the magician keeps his distance, resting on the edge of Kamui's bedroll.

He doesn't ask what's wrong. Doesn't ask if Kamui had a nightmare, or if he had slept at all. All he asks is, "Can I touch you?"

Kamui nods as best as he can, and soon afterwards feels warm arms encircling his shoulders, urging his head closer towards Asra's chest. He goes willingly, lowering his legs to lean into Asra's embrace, keeping his hands pressed tight against his face. Shielding himself from the world.

As his tears start to die down and he feels sleep drifting forward to claim him once more, he pulls his hands away from his face, wiping his eyes dry.

"I'm sorry, Asra," he groans. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Soft hands rub soothingly against his back, Asra's silky smooth hair brushing against his cheek as Kamui raises his head up to rest on Asra's shoulder. He snakes his arms up around Asra's back, returning the embrace.

"That doesn't matter to me," Asra says dismissively, saying nothing more. For some reason, it makes Kamui feel worse, but in a different way, a way he doesn't understand and doesn't want to.

Eventually, Kamui says, "I had... a strange dream." He pauses, and Asra just keeps rubbing soothing circles into his back, saying nothing. "I don't really understand what it was about. Or I don't remember. I don't know. But, I think..." He sniffles, tightening his hands around Asra's shirt. "I think it was about Julian, but I don't know why."

Asra stiffens at the mention of Julian's name, but soon recovers, resuming his earlier motions.

Kamui closes his eyes. "I'm tired, Asra."

"Do you want to sleep alone?" Asra asks.

"No," Kamui responds, without really giving it much thought. Going back to sleep exactly as he was before felt like a bad idea. An open invitation for the dreams from earlier to return, ruining any hope he had for a restful sleep.

Their bedrolls were only designed for one person and pushing them together isn't an ideal solution, but Asra does it anyway. Kamui curls up in his, blanket pulled high over his chin more for comfort than warmth, waiting for Asra to join him.

When he does, he puts an arm around Kamui's waist, over the top of the blanket, settling in facing him. Disasstisfied with that arrangement, Kamui raises the blanket up and over Asra's arm, trapping him beneath it and resting his head on Asra's bare chest. Kamui can feel the vibrations as Asra lets out a quiet laugh.

He drifts away to the sound of Asra's heartbeat in his ear, and right before sleep can claim him, he thinks—there's something irregular about it.

 

  
Early the next morning, before the sun has even finished rising, Kamui is already awake, staring up at the sky overhead. Reality feels a little less so as the sun starts peeking over the horizon, the sky changing colors in a surreal sort of way; like night hung as a curtain just above, a merging of two worlds.

It isn't long after the sky turns to a more dull blue-green and all the night's stars fade from view that Asra starts to stir. Kamui barely acknowledges him, transfixed on the sky above as if caught in a trance. It's the look on Asra's face that eventually draws him out of his fixation.

"Huh?" Kamui mumbles, red gaze pointed up at Asra, who's hovering over him with an apprehensive expression. The tension released in Asra's resulting sigh is palpable.

"You're okay," he breathes, a comment which Kamui doesn't bother to acknowledge. "I didn't expect you'd be awake already. Are you having trouble adjusting to not sleeping on a bed?"

His tone is teasing, but Kamui sees right through it. He's inadvertently given Asra a scare, a tremble in the magician's hands as he brushes some of Kamui's messy white hair out of his eyes. But he's too tired to address it, too tired to play along.

He looks away. "Where are we going next?" he asks, changing the subject. His voice is rough with sleep, making him sound like he hasn't spoken in years, or like he's aged ten.

The expression on Asra's face is hard to look at directly without feeling some type of way, so he doesn't. "I was thinking... we should stay away from the city for awhile. Go somewhere else. Wherever you want."

That gets Kamui's attention.

"What? Why?"

"It's not safe," he says. "With everything that's going on... I'd rather stay far away from all of it, from _Lucio_ , until it all blows over." At the mention of the Count, his expression darkens.

"I thought you said he wasn't scary?"

"Doesn't mean I want to deal with him."

Kamui swallows thickly, uncertain, but keeps his protests to himself. It's too early to be thinking about his feelings, so he turns his brain off instead.

While Asra sits up, curling his legs off to one side and getting his bag packed, Kamui remains stationary. He doesn't want to do things yet. To think things yet. But Asra clearly has other ideas.

Kamui sighs.

"Okay."

They walk out into areas Kamui's not familiar with, where the forest ends and fields of wheat and hay begin. Holding onto Asra's fringed sash like a lost child, Kamui peers wearily around at his environment, wondering if there were any people that lived out here. It seemed peaceful. Maybe a little boring, but peaceful.

"Have you given any thought to where you want to go?" Asra asks, his voice soft, afraid to break through the silence too harshly. Kamui stares down at where his hand grasps Asra's scarf, thinking.

"Right now? I kind of just want to get away from it all," Kamui answers. "I'm tired. I don't want to deal with investigations and ghosts and whatever else."

"So we're in agreement, then," Asra muses. "I would have thought... ah, nevermind..."

Kamui looks curiously up at him, but his head is turned away, impossible to see his expression, to tell what he's thinking. "What?" Kamui asks.

"No, nothing," Asra says, turning to Kamui with a kind smile. "I know somewhere we can go, at least for a few days."

Kamui nods, too exhausted to question anything.

Along the way, Asra keeps conversation flowing, just—slow, steady, something Kamui can easily keep up with. Easing him in to something more energetic, until Kamui can find himself laughing along to something Asra's said. It's easy. He hardly even has to think about anything.

Eventually they reach something peculiar; a golden swirl in the grass, rising and falling like a living creature. While Kamui just stands there staring, Asra approaches it, fishing a vial out of his bag. Pouring the contents into his hand, he holds it out towards the spiral, which slowly unfurls, rising languidly off the ground. The beast raises its head, sniffing Asra's hand before slurping the treats up with its broad tongue.

Asra speaks to the creature with familiarity, and when the beast talks back, it catches Kamui by surprise. It's the same as Faust; like an extra voice in his head, speaking in a tone he's never heard before. The beast swipes their tongue up Asra's face like a playful puppy before setting their sights on Kamui, sniffing the air around him with its large snout.

On impulse, Kamui leans forward and sniffs back. The beast doesn't seem surprised at all, pausing to let Kamui observe them like it was as natural a gesture as shaking hands. Their scent is unexpectedly sweet, and strangely familiar, like something he's experienced in a dream before.

The beast raises their brow, revealing a pair of lavender eyes. " _Kamui. Do you remember me?_ "

Kamui blinks, taking a moment to let the nostalgic feeling wash over him without dwelling on it too deeply. "I feel like I know you... but I don't remember how. I'm sorry."

The beast inches closer, and Kamui leans forward to accomodate their slow movements, trying not to flinch away as the beast's snout tickles his forehead, sniffing him.

" _You have a new smell. But still like you._ "

"A lot has changed since your last meeting," Asra says thoughtfully. "I probably have a new smell by now, too."

The beast turns, giving Asra the same treatment.

" _The same_ ," they groan, " _Hope and pain._ "

Kamui frowns, bemused, but Asra just looks away, nerves showing through on his face. "Uh, well, speaking of hope," Asra starts, quickly steering the topic away from what the beast had said. "I'm _hoping_ you'll help us out. We're trying to get far away from Vesuvia." He glances back at Kamui, gauging his reaction. "For now."

The beast flops lazily onto their side, stretching their limbs. " _Where will you go?_ "

"To Nopal," Asra responds. "If it isn't too far."

Assenting, the beast climbs back onto their feet, lowering themself to an easier height for climbing. Asra mounts the beast with a casual ease, holding his hand out for Kamui to climb on.

"Where do you want to sit? Front or back?" he asks.

"I want to hold you," Kamui shamelessly says, stepping in closer. To his relief, it goes over well, with Asra shooting him a playful grin.

"Oh? Lucky me," he teases, pulling Kamui up onto the animal's back with him. Once he's settled in, arms wrapped around Asra's torso, Asra glances back over his shoulder. "This is comfortable."

Just to be a brat, Kamui tightens his hold, moving one of his hands under the fabric of Asra's mostly unbuttoned shirt. He rests his head on the planes of Asra's shoulders with a soft sigh. "Sure is," he says, purposefully blowing air onto the back of Asra's neck. He feels a shudder roll down Asra's back, subdued, like he'd tried to hide it.

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you," Asra laughs, an edge of bashfulness showing through his deceptively lighthearted tone. A smile twists it's way onto Kamui's face at the observation. Asra's skin was warm under the palm of his hand, smooth, soft. He wanted to lay his head on it.

Asra grips the fur around the beast's neck, turning back to Kamui with a sly wink, which he doesn't have time to question before the beast takes off, soaring through the sky. Kamui's legs instinctually tighten around the animal's furry back, his grip on Asra turning a touch more frantic.

But then he looks down, seeing the fields pass them by, miles away; looking up, at the sun cresting over the sky, painting the air with soulful shades of pink and orange; suddenly, he isn't so afraid. Awestruck, he gazes out at the clouds, so close he could touch them. The wind whips through his hair at a speed contradicting the peaceful atmosphere of the dawn, but it doesn't do a thing to ruin the experience. It's...

Exhiliarating.

At the sound of Kamui's excited laughter, Asra turns back to look at him with a wide grin. "I figured you'd like it," he says, a knowing look in his eye. Kamui leans in closer against Asra's back, unafraid, but drawn to the physicality, the closeness.

"I love it," he says.

Before the sun has even finished rising, the beast arrives at their destination, dropping them off outside a little hut on a small hill in the desert. The ride over had made it easy to drift away, in his own little world, but once Kamui steps foot off the creature's back, his knees buckle. His legs, particularly around the calves, are blazing, like he'd ran the whole way instead. He wants nothing more than to kick back and take a nap.

The animal slinks off around the side of the structure, finding a nice place to plop down for a nap. _They've got the right idea,_ Kamui thinks, envious. Stretching his legs out a bit, he glances around, looking for Asra.

He finds him hovering over some of the prickly yellow plants nearby, bothered.

"Well. This all looks thirsty," Asra muses. He turns to Kamui, meeting his eye. "Looks like I've been gone for too long."

He sets his bag aside, unwinding his scarf to stash it inside. There's a basin near the hut which he sets off to investigate, as Kamui shuffles over to the front steps, eager to be stationary again. He watches Asra set to work on filling the basin with water, which glistens in the early morning sunlight, blending through several colors before settling on a pure, sparkling blue. Dutifully, he fills a jug and sets to work watering the plants outside the hut.

In the process, he catches Kamui's eye. "You look tired. You can head inside, if you want. There's a bed in there. Once I tend to these, I'll join you."

Kamui purrs, "Ooohlala. _The_ famous magician Asra's going to bed with me...?"

Asra laughs, spilling a bit of the water. "I'm hardly famous."

"Mmm, no denials about going to bed with me, thoughhhh," Kamui says, drawing out the last syllable as he passes through the curtain leading inside the hut.

The interior is just as cozy as he'd hoped. Selenite crystals reflect sunlight on the walls, a queen sized bed arranged in the corner of a nearby room surrounded by various potted plants on every surface. There's a small kitchen by the entrance, but the bed calls to him, distracting from all else.

Kamui flops down in the center of the bed, closing his eyes against the rising sun and urging the burning sensation to fade. His joints ache in a way only sleep deprivation could provide, preventing him from moving. Unfortunately, his shoes and jacket are still on, but he has no desire to do anything about that; at least he'd managed to slip his bag off by the bed before collapsing. He could be commended for that, right?

He has no idea how much time passes before he hears Asra step inside the shack. All he knows is he's achieved zero seconds of sleep, despite the immense comfort and relief of lying on a real bed. He hears Asra laugh softly, keeping purposefully quiet; _he must think I'm asleep,_ Kamui muses. Too tired to prove him wrong, Kamui remains perfectly still, breaths steady.

A hand brushes past his hair, hesitant at first, before returning several seconds later. Fingers sweep gently across his hair, cautious, afraid to wake him up. Kamui can feel his heart rate pick up—Asra's petting him. In his sleep. Or, well, ' _sleep_ '. An intimate gesture performed when he was sure no one would notice. It doesn't feel platonic and that causes Kamui to panic—he needs to put a stop to it, before it progresses too far, before he's in too deep.

Without giving Asra any time to react, he grabs Asra's wrist, yanking it forward and drawing his tongue over the palm of Asra's hand. Asra jolts with a startled yelp, tearing his hand out of Kamui's grasp.

All Kamui can do in response is laugh, giggling with all the maturity of a small child. Asra sighs not unlike the parent of said child and wipes his hand off on his pants.

"That scared me! I thought you were asleep," Asra says, sounding only a little upset; the rest of him was just as amused by it as Kamui was, a smile growing on his face. When Kamui just continues to laugh instead of responding, a twinkle of mischief glints in Asra's eyes.

He hops onto the bed in front of Kamui. "Come here."

Sensing Asra's intent, Kamui raises up, holding both hands out in front of him. "W-Wait—"

Asra dives for him. Kamui has no hope of moving out of the way fast enough, and ends up tackled to the bed, squirming as Asra's hands find their way to his sides, tickling him under the jacket. Kamui erupts into giggles, struggling to push Asra away from him, but to no avail.

By the time Kamui can manage to get any words out, Asra's nearly halfway into his lap. "Wait—Stop—I give!" Asra releases him with a smug grin, as Kamui takes a few seconds to catch his breath. Immediately after those few seconds are up, he reaches up to grab Asra, swapping their positions so Asra's back hits the mattress.

"Revenge!" Kamui cries, his hands darting under Asra's shirt to tickle his ribs. He squirms under the onslaught of Kamui's fingers, attempting to twist his body out of Kamui's reach, laughing near-hysterically the whole time.

Inbetween bouts of laughter, Asra manages to call out, "Traitor!" Kamui just laughs, even as Asra attempts to reach for his waist in retaliation. Eventually they both tire out, and Kamui stills his hands, allowing Asra the chance to catch his breath.

Slowly coming down from their giggle-induced high, they suddenly notice how close they've gotten to each other; Kamui had started straddling Asra's lap at some point, their faces barely inches apart, Kamui's hands resting against bare skin. He makes his first mistake—looking down, where Asra's shirt is hanging off his shoulder, revealing enough of him to spread heat through Kamui's body. Namely in his face, which is undoubtably as red as his eyes.

His second mistake was looking back up at Asra's face right afterwards. It's clear that he's noticed their proximity as well, his violet eyes wide and lips parted, surprised. His eyes lower, peering down through ivory lashes right at Kamui's lips. Kamui can swear he feels his heart stop right then and there, just as the panic starts to set in.

He pulls away very quickly, crawling backwards off Asra's lap as casually as he possibly can. "Sorry," he blurts out, internally cringing— _'Sorry'? Really? Can you be any more obvious?_ He clears his throat, feeling Asra rise to a sitting position at the other end of the bed more than he sees it; he's become a lot more interested in looking at a potted plant on the bedside table.

"Um," Kamui tries, "We—I mean, are you tired? I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap."

It's the most transparent deflection he's ever made, but at least it's not a lie. Except, he was pretty sure he'd be getting no sleep done whatsoever if A, his heart didn't decide to calm down _soon_ , and B, Asra decided to sleep in the same bed as him. Right next to him. Where Kamui could hear all of his breaths, feel him shift positions as he slept, watch the rise and fall of his chest, the way the sunlight hits his curls...

_God. This is—_

_Where did this come from? When did this start?_

Asra forces a laugh, "Right." Several tense moments later, during which neither of them make a single move to do anything, he tacks on, "I'm, going to go check something," and quickly dismisses himself, his posture tense, steps stilted.

The second he's gone, Kamui collapses onto the bed, covering his face in his hands. He can feel the heat, the burning warmth in his cheeks, spread across his nose and likely his ears, too. The curse of paleness—no subtlety at all. He could only imagine what Asra must think of him.

_Get broken up with one day, flirt with your best friend the next. What a model person you are, Kamui. Truly exemplary._

He groans, nails dragging down his face just hard enough to feel it and nothing more. He sits up to unlace his boots, kicking them off with less care than he'd normally show before curling back up in bed, face pressed into the pillow.

As if he didn't feel bad enough already.

 

  
It's midafternoon by the time Kamui's eyes flutter open, the room around him bathed in golden light. There's a blanket over the top of him, and his sash and jacket are [missing](https://66.media.tumblr.com/3521274c408526e9c297fcb3ca19de38/tumblr_px4057JArO1qi7tzho2_1280.png)—he just barely recalls shrugging out of them before passing out. While it wasn't exactly _broiling hot_ , it was still a lot warmer than it was in Vesuvia, and the jacket was a bit... excessive, both for the weather and for sleeping in.

He rises out of bed with a sleepy groan, feeling his back pop as he stretches. Too sleepy to deal with putting on thigh high boots, he skips them, padding barefoot out into the main room.

Asra's standing at the kitchen counter, and he turns to look over his shoulder at Kamui as he steps into the room. "Morning," he greets, a small, but genuine smile on his face. Kamui lets out a soft sigh of relief—the mood was back to normal.

He strides over to the counter, leaning against it. "Whatcha doing?" he asks, wearily slurring his words.

"Cooking," Asra answers simply. "I was waiting for you to get up before I actually did anything, though. Any ideas on what you want?"

"What's on the menu?"

Asra sifts through the various ingredients stocked, listing them off to Kamui for consideration. "Hmm. I could make rice pudding," Asra suggests, to which Kamui's stomach growls in interest, causing the both of them to laugh. "Sounds like a yes."

Gathering all the necessary ingredients onto the counter, he hands the cardamom pods off to Kamui. "Do you want to do the grinding?"

"Anytime, darling," Kamui says, the words slipping out before he can stop them. When Asra laughs, Kamui adds in a wink before running off to grab the mortar and pestle off the windowsil, face burning.

_Why don't you ever THINK before you open your mouth?_

While Kamui gets to work grinding the cardamom pods, Asra leans against the counter, sighing thoughtfully. "We should look for a way to work on your magic today," he says. He pauses to think for a few moments. "Environment is key. If you want, you could go ahead outside. Do some deep breathing. I should be done with this pretty soon."

Kamui glances at the curtain leading outside, then back at the rest of the hut. The sparkling lights in the bedroom, the warm, but low lighting, Asra hard at work in front of the counter.

"I think I like this environment better," he says. "It's mellow... and besides, I have sensitive eyes."

It wasn't a lie—even on rainy days, outdoor lighting felt like getting stabbed in the retinas.

Asra nods. "Whatever you're more comfortable with," he says. His lips curl into a smile. "I guess you're just going to have to spend some more time with me, then."

"A tragedy," Kamui sarcastically quips.

"Do you want to start the fire?" Asra asks. Kamui nods, setting his supplies aside to kneel down by the hearth. With a snap of his fingers, it alights, burning brighter and higher within seconds. He turns, intending to ask if there's anything else he could do, catching Asra smiling down at him.

"Perfect. You mastered that," Asra praises, a pride glimmering in his eyes that floods Kamui's chest with warmth. "Although after what I saw out of you last night, this little flame is nothing. That was amazing."

Kamui flushes at the praise, finding it a bit harder to look Asra directly in the eye. He wants to—to make a joke, act cocky. Or the opposite, to say something humble, to deflect. But neither feel genuine, and he ends up saying nothing at all.

Asra quickly moves on from it, rummaging in his bag for another ingredient. When he returns to the counter, Kamui finds himself gravitating towards him, hovering nearby. He should probably at least _pretend_ to be watching Asra cook. But he's not. His gaze is focused entirely on the shape of Asra's deft hands, following the line of his body all the way up to his face. Staring at Asra's lips, wondering what they taste like.

Asra doesn't notice at all, too focused on the task set out before him. "You must be hungry," he says, oblivious to the actual focus of Kamui's gaze. He scoops up some of the rice on a wooden spoon, turning to Kamui, who quickly looks away, pretending to be interested in the food. "Here, tell me how it tastes." He blows gently on the spoon before offering it to Kamui.

He could... take the spoon from Asra's hand and eat it himself. Or. He could. Not. Do that.

Kamui leans forward, wrapping his lips around the spoon in a manner far too lewd to be considered normal. He moves slowly, sensuously licking his lips as he pulls back, catching sight of Asra gulping nervously before Kamui turns away, feigning aloofness.

"It's delicious," Kamui says, and he means it, too; Asra's cooking is amazing, as always. He considers voicing as much, but finds it difficult to get the words out properly. "Could use some more spice, though."

A smile spreads across Asra's face, despite his ever deepening blush. "You're the expert."

"Hardly," Kamui says with a scoff, waving his hand dismissively. "If you were cooking for me, I don't think I'd ever go hungry."

Asra hums. "If that's what it takes."

Leaning his elbows on the counter, Kamui again pretends to watch Asra cook, the cardamom completely forgotten. Out of the corner of his eye he observes Asra closely; the curl of his hair, the contented look on his face, all the way down to the way he wears his shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his torso. Kamui knows first hand just how soft his skin is, and the urge to reach out and touch is—palpable.

This is. Not going to go away. Is it?

He swallows thickly, praying Asra doesn't notice.

There's something here. Maybe there always was. And he, really, really can't believe that it took a fucking _tree_ to finally see it—the way Asra looks at him, the way he holds Kamui like he never wants to let go, his tender care and affection. No one knows him as well as Asra, not even himself, and that's... honestly just an objective fact.

Even still, it's... complicated. The investigation, his past, Julian—and he didn't _do_ complicated. He did exactly what he wanted to do, consequences be damned. Life was too short, and he'd already lost most of it. What was the point in beating around the bush, in avoiding your true feelings, in denying yourself the things you really wanted?

Asra raises the spoon to his lips, lightly blowing before having a taste. Some of the rice gets stuck to the corner of his mouth, even after he swipes his tongue across his lips. Kamui's eyes are drawn to it like a magnet.

"That's more like it," he says, gathering up more of the rice in his spoon. His lips part to speak, body angling in Kamui's direction, but—

Kamui moves faster. Diving in, one of his hands on Asra's chest, lightly gripping his shirt. He laps up the stray bit of rice, tongue grazing Asra's bottom lip. Asra's breath hitches, his body going completely still; in the background, Kamui hears him drop the spoon inside the mixture. He can feel his pulse thudding in his ears, deafening him, but still he pulls back, just far enough to see the look on Asra's face.

It's—complex. Shock, disbelief. Panic. Like he was trying to find some way to rationalize Kamui's behavior, a way for it to come out platonic in the end. It was almost funny; as if close friends ever licked each other's faces like that, barely an inch away from the mouth. Asra's face is blazing, his lips parting but no sound coming out.

And underneath it all, lies a raw, naked longing, so apparent in his eyes that Kamui can feel it in his heart, that urge, that impulse. It feels like forever that they just stand there and stare at each other, before Kamui finds himself leaning back in, his movements no longer his own.

Asra's lips are even softer than he imagined, warm and lightly damp with the taste of spice. His fingers curl into the front of Asra's shirt, mindlessly pulling him closer; Asra makes a small noise in the back of his throat, lips moving against Kamui's, reciprocating. His eyes flutter closed and his hands find either side of Kamui's neck, thumbs brushing against his cheeks, his grip surprisingly tight and almost possessive. It makes something flutter in Kamui's chest, something less than innocent, less than kind, and he wants more of it.

He pulls away for air first, his hand lying flat over Asra's heart, feeling the erratic beats beneath his palm. Unlike a certain needy doctor, Asra doesn't chase after him; he remains still, eyes closed, leaning his forehead against Kamui's. Savouring the moment. His hands fall to the collar of Kamui's shirt, fingers tightening around the knit fabric like he would disappear otherwise.

Kamui shifts the hand not over Asra's heart upwards, dragging slowly along his skin, resting against his golden choker. Asra's eyes flutter open and Kamui can feel him trembling in his arms; Kamui thinks to pull him closer before Asra suddenly takes a step back, eyes wide with shock.

"I—" he stutters, panic written all over his features. His hands hover nearby, like he expects to need them for something, his frantic gaze flickering across Kamui's face, searching for... something. When he doesn't find it, his tense posture starts to ease, expression softening, yet his brows remain furrowed with worry, eyes never once leaving Kamui's face.

Kamui thinks to ask what's wrong, a sense of anxiety and fear casting a shadow over all else—until his lower back hits the counter, and all rational thought leaves him because Asra's hands are back on him, pressing into his hips, up to his face, curling into his hair, his lips crashing against Kamui's with a desperation that comes completely by surprise. Thrown for a loop, Kamui lets out a small noise of surprise. Their bodies slot together, his arms wrapping around Asra's back, not an inch of space between them.

When Kamui pulls back to breathe, Asra doesn't follow suit, placing kisses to the corner of Kamui's mouth, his cheek, his chin, his jaw. All the way down his neck, stopping right above the collar before moving to an area below Kamui's ear, where Asra can feel his pulse jump beneath his lips.

"I missed you," Asra breathes, speaking lowly right into his ear, a shiver running down his spine. A kiss is placed onto the shell of Kamui's ear, and several more down to his earlobe, Asra's nose nuzzling against his neck.

It feels like—like he can hardly breathe. His skin burns in every location Asra touches him and he has _no idea_ how to react. His mind is blank, providing him with no ideas on how to proceed. This wasn't where he expected this to go—if anything, he thought Asra would run. It really seemed to be going in that direction for awhile there, too.

Perhaps sensing his dilemma, Asra pulls back, his hands caressing either side of Kamui's neck, thumbs pressing into his jaw. Their eyes meet, and Kamui can see Asra's worries dancing across his features; but he can also see the want in his eyes, and that—that does something to him.

He grabs onto Asra's hips, pulling him closer, arms sliding up to wrap around his torso as he captures Asra's lips in a heated kiss. A soft moan escapes him, followed up by a considerably louder one when Kamui tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. Carding his hand into Asra's fluffy white hair, he feels the magician arc his back preemptively; his fingers tighten, pulling Asra's head back to allow better access to his neck, where Kamui proceeds to leave a trail of kisses. He stops once he feels Asra's pulse, and sinks his teeth in instead.

A strangled moan falls freely from Asra's lips, fingers tightening in Kamui's hair and around his shirt. The hand on the back of his head pushes him in even closer, encouraging him to bite deeper, leaving a thick pink mark behind when he pulls away. For a second, he expects the mark to disappear, and when it doesn't, the sight of it sends a thrill down his body.

The look in Asra's eyes when he tilts his head forward is smouldering—although Kamui doesn't get much time to look at it, as Asra immediately dives in, catching the skin of Kamui's neck between his teeth and sucking. Surprised and more than a little bit aroused, a pleased sound escapes Kamui's lips, embarrassing him for all of three seconds before he's distracted by the swipe of Asra's tongue against his neck.

He doesn't stop there—biting and sucking his way along Kamui's neck, leaving marks wherever he can. Kamui tilts his head back as far as he can manage without tipping over backwards, enthralled by the idea of Asra marking him. By the time Asra pulls away, Kamui's neck feels well and truly abused, and he loves everything about it.

Asra raises back up, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of Kamui's mouth. Seeking more, Kamui turns his head enough to catch Asra's lips against his, easily drawing him in. Biting Asra's bottom lip hard enough to draw a gasp from him, Kamui takes the opportunity to slide his tongue inside; Asra parts his lips even farther, inviting him in, his fingers tightening in Kamui's hair hard enough for it to hurt.

Each time they part for air, hardly any time passes at all before they're drawn back to each other, over and over; the sound of the pot boiling over is what finally breaks the spell. Asra pulls away with a startled gasp, Kamui instantly leaning in to suck at the skin beneath his jaw before Asra can turn his head away. He moves the pot off the stove to prevent their meal from burning, with Kamui pressing kisses all along his jaw and below his ear, determined to be as distracting as humanly possible.

Asra grips his hips, roughly crashing their lips together. "You are—" Kamui's teeth tug at Asra's lip, drawing a low groan from him. In retaliation, Asra pulls away, sinking his teeth into Kamui's cheek just hard enough for it to hurt. "...tempting me, really."

"Good," Kamui immediately shoots back, roughly tugging at Asra's hair and nipping at the skin below his chin. "Because you've been tempting me for _days_."

He goes back in for a kiss, surprised when Asra surges in, slipping his tongue past Kamui's lips with a well practiced ease. It draws a startled gasp from him, followed by a low groan as Asra's tongue scrapes against his.

When they pull back for air, Asra breathes, "That's nothing."

Kamui wants to ask him what he means by that, but the thought is wiped from his mind entirely as Asra dives back in. It's a lot different than before, when Kamui was taking the lead—not just for obvious reasons, but, for all of Asra's apparent experience. Every swipe of his tongue draws more and more noises from Kamui, sounds he hadn't even realized he was capable of making. It easily puts all of Kamui's previous attempts to shame, and he melts into the kiss, clinging to Asra like a lifeline.

Kamui can feel hands digging into his hips, keeping their bodies held close together; soft skin slides up his waist, under the bottom of his shirt, nails dragging light along the small of his back.

And—because _of course_ it does—Kamui's stomach chooses that exact moment to rumble, loud enough to be heard over the sounds of their impromptu make out session. Startled, Asra pulls away, taking a moment to catch his breath before he starts to laugh.

Raising his head up, he plants a kiss to Kamui's cheek with a note of finality—a total lie, really, as it takes several more for him to be satisfied, finally tearing himself away from Kamui's embrace. Dizzy, Kamui can't manage to draw Asra back in with his distractions before the magician slips away, returning to the pot of rice.

"We should finish cooking, don't you think?" Asra asks. There's something so sinfully alluring about his tone and the coy smile on his face—it makes Kamui's heart race, and it's. Really, really unfair. How dare he be so—so—

But there's not much he can do. The moment has passed, and Kamui really _is_ quite hungry. Ravenous, even, and for a lot more than just rice pudding, but, the rest can wait, even if his skin is left buzzing with anticipation.

Once the meal's finished cooking, they go out onto the front porch to sit down and eat. Without asking Kamui slings his leg across Asra's lap, like it's the most casual thing in the world to do. In response, Asra lets out an amused breath, a small, almost sheepish smile forming on his face.

Asra raises his spoon up to his mouth, but Kamui intercepts, grabbing Asra's wrist and leaning in to eat the food off his spoon. Licking his lips, he catches Asra's gaze with a challenging look in his eyes.

"Cheeky," Asra quips. Kamui dips his own spoon into his food and holds it out for Asra to taste. Amused, Asra leans forward, allowing Kamui to feed him, licking his lips and moaning softly.

Kamui huffs, his face heating up. "You're teasing me."

Smug, Asra holds his spoon out for Kamui to eat from, grinning. "Maybe," he says.

Once their meals are done, Asra leans his head against Kamui's bare shoulder, content. His hand finds Kamui's, tangling their fingers together.

"I didn't know you were so affectionate," Kamui comments, pleasantly surprised.

"You mean, like you?" Asra laughs. He nuzzles in against Kamui's neck with a soft sigh, peering up at him through his lashes. "You make it very hard to resist you."

"Why did you?"

Asra tenses, going completely silent. That reaction alone is enough for Kamui to understand why, without Asra even needing to voice it. Kamui bites his lip.

"Right, sorry. Forget I asked," Kamui says. He squeezes Asra's hand, feeling him start to relax again.

"I want to tell you," Asra says, voice low. "Everything."

"I know." He rubs his thumb across the back of Asra's hand. "It doesn't matter, anyway. We have the future to look forward to now."

He can feel Asra smile against his neck. "Mmm, I like the sound of that," he purrs. "There's so many places I've love for you to see. I want to show you everything."

Kamui chuckles, "Show me everything, then. All your favorite spots. ...But especially the one that sells those fruit cookies."

A laugh finds its way out of Asra's throat at that, and Kamui peers down at his smiling face, delighted.

Eventually they manage to break away from each other, carrying their colorful bowls over to the basin to clean them off.

"Hey, Kamui. Do you want to try some magic?" Asra asks. "You saw what I did this morning, right? When we arrived. Turning the sand into water."

Kamui thinks back—he was exhausted at the time, and didn't really catch exactly what Asra had done, but he remembered seeing him fill the basin with water. Regardless, he's seen Asra do the same trick several times before; he could never manage to replicate it, though.

"It's not something everyone can do, but I wonder if you could try it again."

He hums, staring down at the ground, wondering. This was more Asra's area of expertise. It was—more elegant and free flowing than what Kamui was used to, working with water, or sand for that matter. The best he could do was manipulate and evaporate water, and that last part was kind of the opposite of the goal here. Even then, he wasn't very good at it.

His type of magic—it wasn't as easy to define. He didn't think it had to be, but Asra's was so specific, like he had a style.

"Worth a try," Kamui says, shrugging.

He kneels down on the ground, Asra standing nearby to give instructions and suggestions. Kamui places his hands over a mound of sand, closing his eyes to envision what Asra was telling him; the sand beneath his palms starts to warp, like lava bubbling beneath a molten core, producing a sound not unlike boiling water. It starts to settle soon after, liquid soaking his fingers, and he opens his eyes, combing his fingers through it—but it was still sand, at least visually.

"Maybe it'll help if you feel it first," Asra suggests, kneeling down next to Kamui. He places his hands over Kamui's, his magic flowing through Kamui's veins, tickling the tips of his fingers. Kamui closes his eyes again, feeling Asra's body pressing into his side, glittering lights and colors popping in his vision, cutting through the dark.

" _Somebody is coming this way._ "

Asra pulls away, and Kamui's eyes flutter open, searching for the beast. "Coming _this_ way? ...Weird," Asra says, surprised. Without getting up, the two look off into the distance, eyes eventually landing on the sight of a human figure, shambling along the dirt road. Their posture is awkward and every step seems forced; Kamui leans back on his haunches, frowning.

The figure looks lost, until seeing the two of them sitting out by the hut, at which point the figure runs over to them, frantic. Asra slowly gets to his feet, Kamui following suit, and greets the stranger. There's something uncertain and almost suspicious in Asra's tone when talking to them, as if expecting them to be some manner of criminal; that, or he just really didn't want to talk to anyone new.

Kamui was less apprehensive, but kept to himself. It turned out that Asra and the stranger had met before, at some point during one of his previous journeys. Their conversation quickly turns to the stranger, Saguaro, pleading for Asra's magical assistance. Kamui looks to Asra, noticing how closed off he's gotten since Saguaro showed up; less open, stiff.

At Saguaro's request, Asra's reluctant to agree. He turns to Kamui, seeking his opinion, which just puts all the attention on him. The visitor looks almost surprised to see him, like he hadn't been there the whole time.

Kamui hums, considering. "I want to see it," he says. "So, why not? Let's do it."

The town Saguaro leads them to is unlike any Kamui's seen—in person, at the very least. His eyes rake across the various blocky structures, some built directly into cliffs or large rocks, from what Kamui can tell. It's simple, but Kamui feels he'd appreciate it better if the sun wasn't beating down on them so hard. The village was horribly dry and it was clear everyone was feeling it; even the local animals were passed out in the shade, seeking reprieve.

Kamui grasps the front of his shirt, shaking it out a little to fan himself. At least he'd dressed down a bit. The boots had to go back on, to save his feet from burning against the stone floors, but everything else had been left behind, baring his arms and neck to the open air. He almost wished he could undress a little more, show off his chest like Asra did, but that wasn't an option. Not without taking off his shirt entirely, and without his bag, he wasn't willing to entertain that idea.

The fact the shirt was wool wasn't doing him any favors, though.

They're lead over to a section of dry, red earth, connected to various troughs and what looked like aquaducts that lead throughout the village. According to Saguaro, there used to be a spring, but it's long since dried up with no solid explanation as to how. Asra kneels down in the middle of the spring, Kamui close at his heels.

"Hmm... dry as a bone," he says, his hand pressed down over the red, cracked sand. "Can you feel movement underneath?"

Kamui kneels down next to him, placing his hand not far from Asra's. The dry, cracked earth feels terrible on his skin, but he pushes past that, focusing instead on feeling for whatever lies beneath. There's no water, not from what Kamui can tell; he closes his eyes, red flooding his vision.

Frowning, he focuses deeper underground, sensing movement. But it's not the gentle flow of water he feels, rather, something more chaotic. Thicker, denser. More like... skittering?

His throat goes dry. Suddenly it feels a little _too_ hot, the harsh sunlight burning his skin.

"We're drawing a crowd," Asra says, snapping Kamui back to the present, his skin cooling back to a normal temperature. His eyes fly open, glancing around them at the various people gathered to watch. He turns back to Asra, who looks nervous, uncomfortable under all the wandering eyes, returning Kamui's gaze with a similar look of apprehension. "I have a bad feeling. Maybe you should let me handle this one."

"No," Kamui says, flat out. His response surprises Asra, but it wasn't particularly harsh. He just wanted to know. For whatever reason, he felt like he had to know, had to do this himself, or at least participate. It doesn't really make sense, but he trusts his intuition.

Asra says, "We'll do it together, then."

They lay their hands down side-by-side in the dirt. Kamui closes his eyes, feeling back down towards the bizarre movement, Asra's violet aura shining through beside him.

"You feel that?" Asra asks. "It's not water... That sound, it feels more like..."

The ground begins to shake beneath their palms, Kamui's eyes snapping open in a panic. He wasn't doing that. Asra didn't seem to be doing anything, either; it was as if it was reacting to their presence. The ground cracks, startling them both, and they tear their hands away from the rupture in the earth in a panic. Before Kamui can properly react, a hand wraps around his forearm, pulling him roughly away from the dirt, right as a red blur erupts from the center.

With fear clouding his mind, it was easy to see it as fire; like a volcano, spewing forth from the earth. But there was no heat, merely a dry gust of wind as the vibrant red takes to the sky, blotting out the sun. Stunned, all Kamui can do is stare up at it, his mind struggling to make sense of it. Eventually he's able to see it for what it is.

A thick cluster of red beetles, taking to the sky; hundreds, if not thousands of them.

His vision blurs, a loud crash echoing in his ears. He looks down, his movements not his own; at his feet there's a pile of reflective glass, nothing but shards, spilling out of an intricate, pearlescent hand mirror. His skin pales, his blood running cold, like his soul has left his body, leaving him an empty, hollow shell.

There are hands on his biceps, gripping tight, and Kamui blinks rapidly, his vision clearing, seeing dry sand, a rupture in the earth. Overhead, the last of the insects take to the sky, dispersing to the east. He lowers his head, seeing Asra kneeling before him, eyes clouded with fear, frantically searching Kamui's face. Seeing Kamui return his gaze, blinking in confusion, Asra lets out a sigh of relief and pulls Kamui into his arms. He goes willingly, his limbs numb; he can't help but look back up at the sky, at the swarm rapidly disappearing into the horizon.

_What just..._

A call from one of the villagers separates them, causing them to direct their gaze downwards, to the water rapidly filling the spring. In a rush, they flee the spring, avoiding getting too much of their clothing wet. In disbelief, they watch the newly replenished spring water bursting forth from the ground, filling the spring and lining the troughs throughout the village.

The townspeople begin to cheer, although it feels hollow; they didn't actually do anything. It felt too pyrrhic, considering the appearance of all the insects. There were enough of them to completely black out the sky; it couldn't be anything good.

When Kamui turns to look for Asra, he's gotten caught up in the crowd of people, flocking around them to give thanks. He seems happy, if a bit nervous, something strained in his expression. They're offered a feast as thanks, and when Kamui chances a look at Asra, there's a knowing, if a little smug, look in his eyes, and Kamui sighs, swept up in the celebration.

While the feast is being prepared, an artist offers them their selection of little clay figures. They remind Kamui of some of the ones he'd seen in the hut, among all the succulents. They spend longer than expected mulling over their choices, and when Asra doesn't choose the snake, Kamui raises a brow at him.

"It didn't look like Faust," he explains, holding the tiny fox figure up to his eyes. "Besides, I identify with this one." The smile on his face is an almost direct match for the little indigo fox, and Kamui can't help but laugh.

In the end, Kamui politely passes on all the figures.

"I didn't identify with any of them," he says.

"Because none of them were cats?" Asra asks, with a knowing grin.

"No one ever includes cats," Kamui grumbles, to which Asra laughs.

They're called over once the feast is ready, and the moderate crowd parts to let them through. Asra flushes, embarrassed, avoiding direct eye contact with any of the townspeople.

"Smells great," Asra says, not entirely convincing, "I can't wait to eat it alone under that aloe tree."

There's a subtle emphasis on the word 'alone' in that statement, which seems to go over the townspeople's heads, but registers with Kamui, who can see clearly how tense the crowd is making him. After grabbing some grilled cactus, he retreats, and Kamui is quick to follow after him with his own plate of food, not particularly wanting to talk to anybody either.

When he reaches Asra, he's leaned against the aloe tree, head tipped back slightly, eyes closed. He comes back to attention as Kamui slips in beside him, adjusting his position until there's no space between them.

"Kamui. Faust was just whispering snake secrets into my ears," he says, a playful quirk to his lips.

With a laugh, Kamui asks, "Oh, yeah? What's the hot snake gossip today?"

"Apparently people have been asking about us down at the palace. Do you know a Portia?"

"Julian's sister, Portia?"

Asra's eyes widen, clearly not expecting Kamui's response. "His sister? Really? I didn't know she was in Vesuvia."

"Well," Kamui begins, setting his plate down on the ground in front of his knees. "I don't know for sure that she's his sister, but it's my running theory. I know he has one, and she seems like she'd be it. They're both, you know. Gingers." As Asra laughs at Kamui's assessment, he reaches down for some of the food on his plate, looking it over with a critical eye. "Except, I think he stole all the height. Portia's even shorter than me."

"Well, she's been asking about us," Asra reports. "Actually, she's been asking about you, specifically."

Kamui sniffs at the food in his hand, quickly pulling it away with a grimace, offended by the scent. Shaking his head, he puts it back down onto his plate. "Why me? It's not like the Countess would be asking her to find me, she knows I'm not there," he says, bemused.

Maybe given a bit more time, he'd be willing to call Portia his friend. But as it was, they didn't exactly seek each other out to chat, or anything.

Asra hums, thoughtful. "I guess we won't find out until later." He looks down at the plate of food in front of Kamui, stacked overenthusiastically high without Kamui's consent. "They must think you're too thin, too," Asra teases, earning him a light shove in retaliation. "I can help you work through that."

" _Please_ ," Kamui says, pushing the plate closer to Asra.

The sky starts to darken as they finish their meals, but energetic music soars through the air, drawing Kamui's attention to a band of musicians in the center of the celebration. Some people are dancing, others sitting and clapping along to the beat. Kamui hums.

"Hey, Asra. Do you want to dance with me?"

"Hmm?" Asra hums, his eyes glazed over, distracted. "Did you want to head back? It's getting late."

Kamui sits up on his knees, angling his body toward Asra. "No. I asked if you wanted to dance with me."

Asra's eyes widen, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "Oh. So that _is_ what you said..." He glances out towards the crowd, considering. Then, he turns back to Kamui, a playful glint in his eye. "Alright, sure. Let's dance."

A wide grin spreads across Kamui's face, and he holds out his hand, helping Asra to his feet. The second they're upright, Kamui uses the momentum to swing Asra, who nearly trips, not having expected it. Unaffected, Kamui pulls the magician back in towards his chest, front-to-back, crossing their arms in front of them.

"Do you know how to dance, Asra?" he asks, his breaths ruffling Asra's hair and sending a small shiver down his spine.

"A bit," Asra responds, a hint of playfulness in his tone. Kamui swings him around to face him, holding one of Asra's hands above their heads. There's a sly grin on Asra's face as he takes a step forward, twisting his hips, and Kamui instinctively takes a step back; Asra's thigh winds up intimately close to a part of Kamui's body that shouldn't be brought up in public. He exhales with amusement, mischief sparking in his eyes.

"It's like that, is it?" Kamui teases, keeping his voice down. Not that it really mattered; the music and sounds of celebration were loud enough as it was.

"Don't know what you mean," Asra responds innocently. The look on his face is anything but innocent, however, and in one fluid motion, he swings them both around, dipping Kamui low, their faces inches apart. Exhiliarated by all the sudden movement, Kamui smirks, wrapping his leg around Asra's waist and arching his back enticingly. He expects Asra to kiss him, but he doesn't, a devious twinkle in his eye as he pulls Kamui back upright with a twirl.

It's unexpected, yet somehow feels completely natural to see Asra's graceful, sensuous movements, matching the fast-paced beat of the song. Kamui has no trouble at all keeping up with him, their steps in perfect sync, hands wandering and gazes more-or-less locked on each other. It feels like there's no one else around but them, each roll of their bodies freeing and exciting.

Eventually they end up locked around each other, and Asra wraps his leg around Kamui's thigh, his hands pressed against either side of Kamui's face. Kamui's arms wrap around Asra's back, supporting him. They're both breathing heavier, cheeks colored with the exertion, and a wide smile breaks out on Kamui's face, soon spreading to Asra's as well. Giddy, Kamui dips him, crashing their lips together before he can even complete the motion, Asra's arms coiling around his shoulders. The song crescendos around then, but they remain locked in a kiss even after that, oblivious to the world around them.

After their dance, they move to settle back in against the tree, excitedly tugging on each other and laughing. They only just reach their resting spot when they're interrupted by the same person from earlier—Saguaro?—who comes bounding up to them, giving thanks. Asra responds humbly, shrugging the praise off onto Kamui, who shamelessly revels in it, mostly for a laugh.

However, at Asra's mention of the beetles being unexpected, Saguaro shares some... troubling information. According to him, a giant beetle descended over the city one day, and Count Lucio was the one to slay it—sort of. The beetle had burst into a million smaller beetles, burying themselves in the ground. The spring had gone dry ever since.

Asra seems particularly troubled by this information, quick to navigate his way out of the conversation and, by extention, the celebration itself. Kamui follows him out, curious, but keeping it to himself. The beast is waiting patiently for them on the edge of town, ready to take them back to their hut.

Once at their destination, the beast flops down, exhausted, making a one word request for a drink. Asra nods, shooting Kamui a look that says 'follow me' before heading over to the basin together. They're both thinking the same thing—it was a good opportunity for Kamui to test his magic again.

"I've been thinking about this," Asra says. "I'm always giving you words to think about, but the strongest spells are words of your own. So this time, try to empty your mind. The words will come."

Kamui nods, focusing on the basin. Clearing his mind, he lays his hands over the bowl, eyes closed; letting the gentle night air soothe him. He visualizes an ocean, remembering the scent of salt carried over the breeze; the feel of liquid on his skin, stirring his hair, passing over him.

A tremor passes through Kamui's hands, startling him. He pulls his hands away, staring down into the bowl, but—there's something wrong. The liquid is a vibrant red, almost glowing. Not quite blood, but definitely not water, either. It looked an awful lot like the contaminated water draining into the slums. Kamui stares down into the liquid, stunned and confused, before turning to Asra, seeking answers.

"Kamui... what were you thinking about?" Asra asks, just as confused by the result of Kamui's spell.

Taking a moment to figure out how to put it into words, Kamui explains his thought process as best as he can. It doesn't do much to ease the look of confusion on Asra's face, but he does eventually come up with an explanation that seems feasible.

"Being surrounded by water... you were just surrounded by a lot of red beetles earlier," Asra deduces. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Kamui."

Asra puts his hands over the bowl, turning the water clear, and the beast bends down to lap it up. Kamui stares down into the clear water, dissastified, and doesn't notice right away that Asra's heading inside without a word. He frowns.

There was clearly something bothering him, and Kamui was pretty sure he knew what.

Inside the hut, Asra removes his jacket, setting it aside with the rest of his things. Kamui hangs back, uncertain.

"I know I said not to worry, but, those beetles are a sign," Asra says, downcast. "They used to be a real problem in Vesuvia, back before—" he purposefully cuts himself off, glancing back at Kamui as if surprised to see him standing there. "They're... not of this world, but they can pass through it. And when they do, it can cause a lot of damage."

With a heavy sigh, Asra slumps. "We should head back to the city," he says, clearly disappointed by the idea. He turns, brightening considerably at the sight of Kamui nearby, and heads over to him, caressing the sides of his face. "It's kind of cruel, having such a short escape. I wish we could stay away longer." He sighs. "Oh well. We'll have time some day." He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the bridge of Kamui's nose.

"We have time right now," Kamui says. "It's late. We can sleep here. And... until then..." The look on his face is purposefully suggestive, but hesitant, unsure on where exactly Asra's limits lie. Asra returns with a coquettish grin of his own.

"I was hoping you'd say something like that," he purrs, tilting Kamui's head up just enough to press their lips together. He takes a step back, his hand reaching loosely for Kamui's, walking backwards towards the bedroom, an inviting look on his face. Heat spreads through Kamui's body.

He scurries to follow after him, and they sit on the edge of the bed, removing their shoes. Kamui's take a bit longer, being lace-up boots that reach his mid-thigh, and as he hastily struggles out of them, Asra sits close, gently brushing Kamui's hair aside to trail kisses down his neck.

"You're an even bigger distraction than I am," Kamui complains, shucking his boots off. Asra laughs, the vibrations sending a shiver down Kamui's back.

"I beg to differ." Asra presses a kiss over Kamui's ear, the resulting sound making him shiver even more. He can feel Asra smile against his skin at his reaction. "You're adorable, Kamui."

Flustered, Kamui huffs, struggling to keep from melting like putty in Asra's hands. "I'm manly," he says, sounding more embarrassed than anything else.

Asra laughs, nuzzling into Kamui's shoulder. "Of course you are." He lifts his head, pressing more kisses along the side of Kamui's neck. "My handsome man."

Heat rolls over Kamui's body, a pleased noise escaping his lips. "Wh-Who taught you to act like this?" It was meant as a tease, but his voice comes out sounding so vulnerable that it definitely doesn't come across as intended. Regardless, Asra doesn't respond, merely humming before pulling away, brushing fingers across Kamui's chin before getting settled up near the pillows.

Kamui gravitates towards him. Asra has his legs crossed, leaning back against the windowsil with a casual ease. With the suggestive smirk on his face, it feels like a test—and Kamui has the feeling he's going to fail, walking right into whatever trap Asra has laid out for him.

Kamui climbs over the top of him, pushing Asra's legs aside to slot himself between them. The look on Asra's face doesn't falter—if anything, he looks more pleased with himself than before, his arms reaching out to draw Kamui in closer.

"You seem tense," Asra comments, his hands pressing into the sides of Kamui's neck. "What happened to your confidence from earlier?"

"I'm trying to figure you out," Kamui admits, face burning.

"You don't have to do that." Asra pulls him in for a lingering kiss, pulling away to press his lips to the corner of Kamui's mouth. "Just do whatever feels natural. I promise you won't scare me away."

"I don't know if you want me at my most 'natural'," Kamui says. It could come across as an innuendo—but he was really, truly uncertain. His style of affection tended to get a bit... aggressive. Sure, there was a lot of biting and general roughness to their makeout session in the kitchen, but it could get so much more intense than that, so quickly.

"You'd be surprised," Asra says reassuringly, leaning back with his arms thrown over Kamui's shoulders.

Kamui sighs, tangling his hands in Asra's hair, tilting his head back. The bite mark from earlier stood out on the side of his neck, right below his choker. There was no hiding it. Testing the waters, Kamui leans in, a hand pressed over Asra's chest, and presses a kiss to the tender skin before drawing it between his teeth and sucking. Asra groans, sighing, but it's subdued. Dissatisifed, Kamui moves his head down lower, doing the same to Asra's collarbone.

"Someone's going to see that," Asra laughs, threading his fingers into Kamui's hair. The comment just causes Kamui to suck harder, drawing a slight hiss of pain. He doesn't bother doing anything to soothe it, moving on immediately to place another mark to the center of Asra's chest. His back arcs into it, legs curling.

"I want them to see," Kamui says thickly. Asra makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a whimper at the sound of Kamui's voice, fingers tightening in Kamui's hair. He grabs Asra's shawl, tugging, and Asra quickly gets the point. He raises up enough for Kamui to get it off of him and toss it aside, up by the pillows.

Kamui makes quick work of the buttons on Asra's shirt, pulling it down over his shoulders. Wasting no time Kamui dives in, pressing kisses along Asra's torso. His hands rake up Asra's sides, dipping down under his back, dragging nails with increasing pressure, feeling Asra's hands in his hair.

Kamui yanks his own shirt up and over his head, placing it carefully on the bedside table where the rest of his clothing rests. Asra chuckles softly at the sight. In the meantime, he attempts to wiggle out of his own shirt, only for Kamui to reach out and stop him. A devilish grin breaks out across Asra's face.

"Of course. You'd rather ravish me, right?" Asra purrs. And that's—an invitation if Kamui's ever heard one.

Kamui leans in, capturing one of Asra's hardened nipples between his teeth, lightly nibbling, rolling over it with his tongue. Asra sucks in a breath, startled, sighing pleasantly as Kamui's tongue swipes across him. The sound quickly turns into a groan as one of Kamui's hands starts to toy with the other nipple, Asra's legs tightening around Kamui's sides.

Sliding his free hand down towards Asra's hips, he swaps sides, leaving behind the first nipple with a quick kiss. Asra nearly purrs as Kamui's hand grasps his waistband, searching blindly for the buttons. A bit impatiently Asra reaches for his hand, guiding him towards what he was looking for.

He raises his head, blowing cold air over Asra's lightly bitten nipple. He pulls up, looking Asra in the eye.

"Is this okay?" he asks, fingers curling under Asra's waistband, wanting to be sure before he crossed any lines. Asra leans forward to kiss Kamui's jaw, his hands finding their way to Kamui's hips.

"More than okay," Asra answers, trailing kisses down Kamui's neck as he unbuttons the front of Kamui's pants, easing them down slowly, waiting for Kamui to catch up before going all the way with it.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Kamui slides his hand down past the waistband of Asra's pants, over his briefs, palming him through the fabric. A pleasured sigh escapes Asra's lips, and he squirms, arching into Kamui's hand.

He quirks a finger forward, drawing it sinfully slow up between Asra's folds, feeling his heat, the slight wetness soaking through the fabric. A shuddering moan escapes Asra's throat, a tremor passing over him. Kamui continues petting him through the fabric, reveling in every little reaction it earns him; the tremble in Asra's thighs, his quickened breaths, the pleased sighs.

In return, Asra pulls down Kamui's ruby red briefs just far enough to pull his dick out, stroking him slowly between two fingers as Kamui shudders, groaning against Asra's shoulder. A fingertip teases at the slit, before moving sinfully slow down his length, his touch feather-light. Once he travels all the way down, he turns his hand, wrapping his fingers loosely around Kamui's dick. Magic tickles his skin and suddenly Asra's hand is unbelievably smooth, sliding easily back up, palm rubbing over the tip.

It's all so slow and gentle and not at all what Kamui was used to, but—he loved it. He wasn't sure why, but Asra's touch had his heart beating faster, his body feeling like it was going to burn up from the inside out. He wasn't—He wasn't even _doing anything_ , just dragging his hand languidly back and forth, but everytime his palm swept over the tip Kamui was overcome with the desire to hold him still, to rub against him, to rut into his hand.

"You're teasing me," Kamui breathes, surprised by the roughness of his own voice. There's a knowing and devious smile on Asra's face, but he bats his eyelashes innocently up at Kamui.

"What are you going to do about it?" Asra asks, his tone fairly neutral for a person with someone else's hand down his pants, yet teasing and intimdating at the same time. It sends a thrill down Kamui's spine, centering right in his dick. Asra chuckles, feeling Kamui throb in his hand.

This just prompts Kamui to pick up the pace, dragging Asra's briefs down over his thighs. This was new territory, but he wasn't willing to let Asra get the better of him. He angles his head to look down, watching his own movements. Generally repeating what he was doing before, he slowly drags his fingers up Asra's center, hearing his breath catch, but avoiding dragging all the way up. If Asra was going to tease, then so was he.

The magician's breaths quicken, his hand finding its way to the back of Kamui's neck. He draws Kamui into a kiss, legs spreading encouragingly, hand twisting around the tip of Kamui's dick as he moans against Asra's mouth. Kamui's hips jerk, desperate for more friction, feeling the shape of a smile form on Asra's lips.

With his attention drawn more to his own dick, he finds it hard to focus on what he's doing with his hand; it's accidental when his fingers brush up against Asra's clit none-too-gently, causing their kiss to break apart with a gasp from Asra.

" _Kamui_ ," Asra groans, voice thick with arousal and low, soft. He reaches down to still Kamui's hand, keeping him held in place. "H-Here—Please," Asra breathes, squirming against Kamui's fingers. His pleading tone goes straight to Kamui's dick—a part of him wonders if it was done on purpose. "R-Rub—Ohhhh—Y-Yes, just like that..."

Massaging his fingers against Asra's clit, he brushes his cheek against Asra's, putting all of the magician's vocalizations right by his ear. Asra picks up the pace, wrapping firmly around Kamui's dick, his hips jutting forward to meet the movements of Asra's hand. He doesn't recognize the sound of his own voice, but he can easily forget all of that with Asra sighing and speaking sweetly into his ear.

Not wanting this to end so fast, Kamui moves his hand back down, teasing two fingers inside Asra's hole before pulling back up, massaging Asra's clit, feeling his thighs twitch and breaths quicken, and dipping back down again. Asra's hips twitch, Kamui's fingers slipping farther inside him by accident, and for a split second Kamui starts to panic before he hears Asra gasp, cursing heatedly—his hips jerk, seeking more, and Kamui is quick to give it to him, curling his fingers inside. Slowly, experimentally, he pumps his fingers inside, the heated sounds it draws from Asra encouraging him to thrust a bit faster, Asra's whimpers turning desperate.

Kamui finds himself thrusting his hips forward, fucking into Asra's hand, but it isn't like Asra doesn't do the same; lifting his hips off the bed to meet with Kamui's thrusts, forcing his fingers deeper. It's frantic and desperate and Kamui doesn't even notice when he starts to speak, rambling filthy words into Asra's ear. He groans, sinking his teeth into Asra's neck, _hard_.

"Fuck—" Asra curses, wrapping his legs around Kamui's. Kamui twists his fingers, pressing a thumb against Asra's clit and it feels like his heart might stop. "Kamui, I lo—mmhh—" he cuts himself off, biting down on his own hand to keep quiet. Kamui's mind is too hazy to realize what he'd been about to say, or why he wouldn't say it.

Sensing his encroaching orgasm, Kamui raises up, desperate to kiss Asra—he sinks his teeth into Asra's hand, rather than using his words, and Asra moves it away, clutching Kamui's back as their lips move against each other.

Kamui finishes first, moaning and gasping into Asra's open mouth as his cum spurts out over his fingers and onto Asra's waist, his hips convulsing. Asra takes a little bit longer; his free hand moving to wrap tight around Kamui's wrist, holding him still and rutting against him, using him to get off. When he does finally cum, he does so with his mouth pressed into the crook of Kamui's neck and shoulder, afraid of what he might say.

Dazed and more than a little bit tired, Kamui collapses on top of Asra, without a care to the mess on his waist, slowly pulling his fingers out of Asra's still-throbbing hole. Everything feels damp in some way but he doesn't care, desperate to cling to Asra like he would die if he didn't feel their skin pressed tightly together. Without thinking about it, he moves his cleaner hand to lay over Asra's chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly, slowly evening out over the course of several minutes.

It feels like an eternity before either of them say or do anything, too blissed out to move, or even think. The first to move ends up being Kamui, who lifts himself up just enough to press a lingering kiss to Asra's cheek, enjoying his warmth, before settling back in, this time with his face nuzzled into Asra's hair.

The first to act with any sort of lasting effect is Asra. He drapes an arm across Kamui's shoulder, limbs too heavy and useless to do much more than that. "I—" he cuts himself off, a small, frustrated noise in the back of his throat that has Kamui turning his head to try and get a peek at Asra's expression.

"Are you okay?" Kamui asks, worried—he felt like everything went pretty well, all things considered, but he wasn't so sure he knew what the fuck he was talking about, either.

Asra sighs blissfully, "Perfect." He leans in closer, brushing his nose against Kamui's jaw. "But we're going to get all sticky if we don't clean up."

Kamui groans in displeasure at the thought of having to move, burying his face deeper into Asra's fluffy ivory locks. Asra smiles softly, brushing his lips past Kamui's neck.

"As much as I love this, I don't particularly love the thought of waking up tomorrow covered in your cum," Asra says, lightly pushing on Kamui's shoulder in hopes that he would get the point.

With a groan, Kamui lifts himself up just enough for Asra to reach between them. He glances around the room for something to use, some sort of towel, fully unwilling to dirty any of his clothing—or Asra's—for this. But then he feels a tingle of magic brush against his waist, and he glances down, finding Asra's body completely clean, not a trace of filth anywhere on either of their torsos. He has no idea what sort of kinky sex spells Asra has in his repertoire, but apparently post-coital cleanup is one of them.

"Give me your hand," Asra says, gesturing towards the one Kamui'd used to finger him with. He hadn't really noticed, but it's wet and sticky with Asra's fluids, and he. Can't help himself.

Rather than offer his hand to Asra, he sticks the dirty fingers inside his mouth, sucking sensuously on his own fingers. Peeking out at Asra from beneath his lashes, he sees the magician's violet eyes widen, mouth hanging open in shock. Kamui doesn't stop until he's completely cleaned his hand of all fluids, at which point he licks his lips with a moan.

Asra turns bright red, averting his eyes in embarrassment.

"Is that clean enough?" Kamui asks innocently, leaning his head on Asra's chest, chin propped up on his hands so he can peer up at him.

"You're—" Asra pauses, sighing. "You didn't learn that from me."

"No, porn is free, Asra," Kamui jokes, earning him a less-than-pleased groan from Asra. He smiles, hiding his mouth partially behind his hand, staring up at Asra in adoration. "You're beautiful."

The compliment catches Asra by surprise. He doesn't know how to react, his mouth hanging open uselessly as he averts his gaze, suddenly bashful. Kamui laughs softly, setting his hands aside so he can press his lips to Asra's chest, trailing kisses as far down as he can reach without having to move too much.

"You're so pretty, Asra," Kamui continues, talking between kisses. "So soft and warm. I want to hold onto you forever."

"Then do it," Asra says quietly, still not quite able to meet Kamui's gaze. "Don't let go."

Feeling his heart swell, Kamui wraps his arms tight around Asra's torso, rolling onto his side and bringing Asra with him. He tangles their legs together, clinging. Asra's hands find their way into Kamui's hair, languidly combing through tangles.

"Can we do this every night?" Kamui mumbles against Asra's neck.

Asra grins. "Ohhh, _every_ night? Someone's energetic," he teases.

They settle in to bed, and Kamui drifts off easily, too exhausted to notice when Asra pulls the blanket over them.


	5. Chariot - Part III

To no one's surprise, Asra wakes first. Even though Kamui can sense it nearly the exact moment he begins to stir, Asra remains as still as possible, doing little more than pressing a kiss to Kamui's forehead before settling back in, allowing him to sleep as much as he wants. For awhile, he drifts between sleeping and waking, dreaming of nothing. It's when he can feel fingers combing gently through his hair that he starts to rouse with any sort of finality.

Groaning, he stretches out his limbs like a cat, feeling more kisses being pressed to his face. It makes his chest feel light, sighing blissfully as he nuzzles against Asra's cheek, the sound of the magician's laughter rumbling in his ear.

"As nice as this is," Asra starts, smiling as Kamui makes a preemptive noise of complaint, "We need to get moving so we can get back to the city before it gets late."

"Fuck the city," Kamui grumbles, feeling the vibrations of Asra's laugh in his ear, sending a tremor down his back.

Asra presses a kiss to Kamui's jaw, pulling away even despite him tightening all of his limbs around Asra's body, resisting his departure. He manages to slip out anyway, adjusting his pants and shirt before searching for the rest of his clothes. Kamui remains curled comfortably up in the bedsheets, watching Asra get dressed.

Kamui's red knit shirt gets tossed in his direction, covering his face. "Get dressed," Asra says, a hint of a laugh in his voice. Pulling the fabric off of his face, Kamui catches sight of Asra from across the room, outlining the curve of his body with his eyes.

Eventually he manages to drag himself out of bed, pulling his shirt on over his head along with the emerald. It takes him considerably longer to dress than Asra, his outfit being a bit more complicated, on top of him being much slower to wake. The weather doesn't exactly compliment the amount of warm layers that make up his outfit, but it's better now than once they're on the road.

When he steps outside the bedroom, Asra has started cooking something that smells of spice. Kamui gravitates towards the scent, leaning his head on Asra's shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist.

"Smells nice," Kamui mumbles wearily. Asra angles his head to lay a kiss to Kamui's cheek.

"You say that about all my cooking," Asra comments.

Kamui hums, brushing his nose against Asra's neck, inhaling his scent. "Wasn't talking about the food."

A light blush spreads across Asra's face, but he laughs through it. "Flatterer." Kamui just wraps his arms tighter, nuzzling Asra's neck and trailing kisses up to his ear. "If you keep distracting me, the food will take longer to cook."

"Mmm, a tragedy," Kamui sarcastically quips, drawing the lobe of Asra's ear between his teeth and sucking. Asra lets out a shuddering sigh, his head tilting automatically to give Kamui more room.

 

  
By the time they reach the forest proper, the sky begins lightly pelting them with rain, rapidly growing in intensity. Kamui pulls his hood up, while Asra angles his scarf over his head. Squeezing each other's hands, the two quicken their steps, hoping to outpace the rain.

"I'm not looking forward to going back to the palace," Kamui says, squinting through the pain in his eyes at the forest around them. "Things were a lot easier away from it."

"I'm not looking forward to it either," Asra says with a small sigh. "I don't want to put you in danger like that."

"I won't be alone," Kamui reminds him, a playful smile breaking out across his face. "I have a big, strong magician to protect me."

Asra laughs. "I don't know about 'big' or 'strong', but..." Red blooms across his cheeks, and he looks away, pretending to be keeping an eye out on their environment. "I'll protect you with my life," he says. The confession sends a thrill through Kamui's body, and he chuckles, stepping in closer to wrap his arms around Asra's bicep.

The rain picks up, beginning to soak through their clothes, leaving them shivering.

"I'd offer you my jacket, but it's attached," Kamui says, gesturing to his sash, which rests over the top of his coat.

"What a gentleman," Asra says, smiling. He goes to open his mouth to say something else, only to become distracted by a rustling sound not far from them. They stop walking, eyes fixed on the source of the noise.

Faust pops out of the leaves, immediately rushing for Asra and slithering up his body to wrap around his shoulders, her tongue flicking over his face. Asra laughs, ticklish, before Faust climbs up to settle in his hair like her own personal nest. Kamui smiles affectionately at them, and Faust notices him, twisting her head around to look at him, contentment rolling off of her in waves.

"Well, now that everyone is accounted for..."

Thunder cracks overhead, startling them and rustling the leaves in the trees. Asra lifts his head, eyes wide, peering up through his scarf at the thick storm clouds darkening the sky.

"Can you feel that?" he asks. "Every animal in the forest is seeking shelter." He sends Kamui a smile, light dancing in his eyes. "I have a friend who lives nearby. We can stay with him until the rain lets up."

Kamui grins. "I'd say 'race you', but I don't know where we're going."

With only a smirk as a warning, Asra takes off running, pulling Kamui alongside him. It's easy to keep up with him, laughing as the rain pelts their faces, Kamui's hood getting blown off the back of his head. It's easier to forget about the cold this way.

They stop outside a small stone building under the winding roots of a tree, Kamui gravitating towards Asra's body heat as he traces glowing patterns in the door. Kamui watches curiously, but says nothing, used to the concept of doors being locked with magic sigils.

They step inside, Kamui peering around at the room, struggling to see through the darkness. A shiver wracks Kamui's body as Asra summons a ball of light in his hand, illuminating the room.

"Is that your teeth chattering?" Asra asks, glancing over Kamui's rain-soaked body with worry. "Let's get a log in the fireplace."

They kneel by the hearth together, Asra hefting up a log of wood and settling it into the center of the fireplace. Without a second thought Kamui snaps his fingers, a spark catching the wood, igniting it into a full blaze within seconds. Asra smiles over at him, pride glimmering in his eyes.

They settle on the floor by the fire, Kamui pulling his legs closer to his body.

"Are you wondering who this friend is, that I've never told you about before?" Asra asks.

Kamui grins, a hint of mischief in his eye. "I'm surprised you have friends that aren't me," he teases, earning him a faux-offended look. "Who are they?"

"He's my oldest friend," Asra explains. "He's under a spell, sort of like you, but instead of forgetting, he's forgotten. You've... met him before."

Intrigued, Kamui raises a brow. "You mean, recently?" He couldn't imagine Asra would add that last detail if it wasn't; he was already so tight-lipped about anything prior to three years ago.

"It's possible," Asra says. "Although it depends on your definition of 'recent'."

Kamui hums, turning back towards the fire. "I'm excited to know what kind of friends you have," he says. "Does he like me? Or does he not remember me?"

With an impish grin, Asra replies, "You'll have to wait and see, won't you?" As Kamui huffs, pouting, Asra leans into his side, wet hair tickling Kamui's skin. "I think you could get along with him. You have quite the effect on people," he says, his voice low, practically purring. "After all, you got _me_ to open up. You could get him to open up, too."

Kamui thinks to make a lewd joke, but holds his tongue.

"His name is Muriel," Asra says. Kamui hums, rolling the name over in his mind. Asra watches him carefully; it feels familiar, somehow, but Kamui supposes that's par for the course. There's a lot he doesn't remember, and for someone no one remembers by design, it's not surprising that there might be some sense of deja vu at the mention of him.

Asra wraps both his hands around Kamui's, exhaling warm breaths over his fingers. "Ringing any bells?"

Kamui hums, "Maybe. It's hard to tell."

"That's alright," Asra says, bringing Kamui's hands to his lips and kissing his fingertips. His skin grows warm under Asra's touch, and Kamui curls up closer to him, craving his body heat.

Faust climbs out from under Asra's scarf, settling close by the heat of the fire. "Careful. You don't want to get too close," Asra warns.

"Wish I could lay that close," Kamui wistfully sighs.

"Looks cozy," Asra agrees, "But that log isn't going to last very long. The woodshed is kind of far away, but I'm not feeling the cold. I'll bring back plenty."

He places several kisses to Kamui's knuckles before letting go, rising to leave the cabin. Kamui immediately moves his hands up to his mouth, exhaling to keep them warm.

"You two keep warming up. I'll be back soon," Asra says.

Kamui nods, already missing Asra's warmth. With a sigh, he starts fiddling with his sash, pulling it off to dry by the fire, jacket following soon after. The removal of the wet fabric helps, but his skin is still chilly. Running his hands over his arms, he attempts to rub some heat into them, despite the dampness of his skin.

Possessing no shame at all whatsoever, he reaches for his shirt, about to pull it off when he notices Asra's still there, standing by the door with his hand hovering over the handle, staring, face red. A flash of heat rolls over Kamui's body at the discovery.

Devious, he slowly lifts his shirt off over his head, stretching out his back with an obscene arc and groaning a bit too pleasurably to be passed off as normal. With a roguish quirk of his lips, he stretches out by the fire, posing to accentuate the line of his body, returning Asra's stare with a wink.

A surprised, albeit slightly embarrassed laugh escapes Asra at that, and he smirks. "Don't tempt me."

"Come lay by the fire," Kamui says, smoothing his hand over the rug invitingly.

"How could I resist?"

Asra crosses the room in three steps, dropping to his knees beside Kamui and curling up against him. He drapes his arms loosely over Kamui's torso, resting their foreheads together. Kamui smiles, pleased.

"You're so cold," Asra notes with a hint of concern, rubbing his hands across Kamui's back in an attempt to warm him. "When did you get this cold?"

"I'm always cold, Asra," Kamui points out. He rubs their noses together. "You're just going to have to warm me up, aren't you?"

Asra lets out an amused huff, pulling Kamui in closer to lay a kiss to his lips. "Let's get out of these clothes," he says lowly, his breath hot against Kamui's skin. "And grab one of those furs. I feel bad disturbing the bed, but half of those are mine anyway."

He shucks off his jacket, shirt, and scarves, hanging them by the fireplace to dry off, before pulling over one of the furs from the bed. He wraps it around himself and Kamui, who nestles in close to him, sighing pleasantly as the heat envelopes his body.

"This is so nostalgic," Asra comments. "We used to do this all the time, back in the winter."

Kamui blinks. He didn't remember much of that, so... "You and Muriel?"

"Mhm. That was back when _we_ still barely knew each other."

Surprised, he tilts his head, peering up at Asra through ivory lashes. "...Us?"

"Yeah. When I first started living here, I wondered if I'd ever see you again. I would have done anything to be here with you, like this," he says, his voice growing softer the further he goes along, a blush forming on his face. Kamui leans in closer, tilting his head to kiss the closest part of Asra he can reach.

"That's so sweet, Asra," Kamui says. "I'm sorry we didn't get to do this sooner."

He feels almost guilty—was Asra really left suffering in silence this whole time, unable to touch, to reach out at all? To just sit by and watch while the love of his life ran off with—with someone he didn't even like? For _three years_?

...Was that why he was gone all the time?

"There's plenty of time now," Asra says, tilting Kamui's head up for a kiss. Kamui smiles against his lips, reaching up to pull his head in closer, deepening the kiss. When they pull apart, Asra's eyes trace the soft planes of Kamui's face appreciatively.

He grins, tilting his head at a more alluring angle. "Like what you see?" Asra smiles, leaning in to kiss the line of Kamui's jaw.

"Do you even have to ask?" His arms tighten, drawing Kamui flush against his body all the way down to their knees. His lips press into Kamui's cheek, lingering, leaving another kiss on his cheekbone before pulling away to gaze longingly into Kamui's vivid scarlet eyes. "I _love_ what I see."

As soon as the sentence leaves his mouth, Asra's entire body tenses. Amethyst eyes widen, then narrow, a mixture of regret, fear, and embarrassment showing through in his expression. Kamui blinks, confused, wondering what had happened to make him look like that.

"Ah—I mean—" Asra stutters, looking anywhere but at Kamui, face turning a deep shade of red as he bites his lip. "Uh—Oh, look at that. The fire's almost out."

Kamui raises a brow, unconvinced by his attempt to change the subject, but still follows his gaze to the fire, which has dwindled considerably. He notices Faust, with her head turned away from them, as if to give the two some privacy.

"Oof... I'd better go get more," Asra says. He pulls out of Kamui's embrace, causing him to shiver at the loss of contact, sitting up on his knees. "Here, put this on. It can get chilly in here fast."

He grabs his own shirt and scarf from where they're hung up by the hearth, arranging them on Kamui, who holds the shirt closed like a jacket, burying his face inside the scarf and sniffing it with no sense of subtlety. It smells warm, but Asra's scent clings to it still, making his body feel even warmer. Once that's settled, Asra leans in to kiss Kamui's brow.

"There, all cozy," he says with a smile. "I'll be right back, okay? Don't you two stop being adorable. And don't open the door."

"Not even for you?" Kamui asks, pulling the fur up over his shoulders, cloaking his half naked body.

" _Especially_ not for me. I'll open the door myself. If I can't do that... it isn't me."

Kamui's eyes widen, and he glances down at Faust, who returns his gaze. He wasn't sure what to think about that; whether it was just generalized paranoia, or if there was something in the forest he should be wary of. Something other than Count Lucio, who shouldn't even be able to get near him to begin with.

"You better come back," Kamui says, his tone caught halfway between harsh and panicked.

"For you? How could I stay away," Asra flirts, with a grin that puts Kamui more at ease. He steps outside, the door falling shut behind him.

To make up for the lack of light, Kamui holds one of his hands outside the fur blanket, a small, glittering light bursting on his fingertip. Twirling his fingers, he juggles the light between them, growing brighter each time it lands. It slowly builds until the light is strong enough to illuminate the nearby area, at which point he notices Faust curled up around his shoulders, the tip of her tail slowly swishing through the air; he hadn't even noticed her approach.

Pointing his hand around the room, he observes the various nooks and crannies. There's a lot of cobwebs, and a shelf with some wooden carvings on it. A familiar smell wafts through the air, but he has trouble placing it.

Soon after, a howl sounds from outside, and he tenses, turning back to the door as if he expected something to come bursting through it. Faust's tail stills, perhaps sensing the potential danger as well.

Nothing happens, so he turns away. Shivering, he pulls the clothing and fur on tighter, so it ends up covering half his face. Growing bored, he tugs off his boots with some difficulty, before raising to his feet. There's a wooden carving of a bear on a shelf nearby that draws his attention, some type of energy around it that feels achingly familiar, but he just can't place it.

He reaches for it at the same time that the door bursts open, slamming into the wall with a deafening boom, nearly startling him enough to send him flying backwards onto his ass. There's a figure in the doorway that Kamui doesn't recognize—tall and strong, taking up the entire doorway with his bulk, a hood casting a shadow over green eyes. His stare is piercing, yet Kamui feels nothing towards him but curiosity.

Next to the man is a wolf; likely the source of the howl. There's blood coating the fur around her mouth as well as several parts of her body.

"Don't touch that," comes the man's voice, deep and rumbling yet somehow soft-spoken at the same time. He seems like he should feel dangerous; the man's body was covered in thick scars, just one of his hands likely large enough to crush Kamui's entire head, but he just wasn't feeling it. There was something else there, something kind, although Kamui couldn't be sure why he felt that way considering the sight he was met with.

"Muriel?" Kamui tries, seeing the man's eyes widen at the mention of his name. It's telling—Asra hadn't ran into him yet, clearly, so he was probably pretty confused that anyone would know who he was. Likely even more confused about why and how Kamui was here at all. "You're much larger than I expected," he muses.

The man strides across the room, his thudding footsteps echoing throughout the area. There's anger in his eyes, but it's petulant—Kamui meets his gaze with a casual ease, unperturbed. "You're not welcome here," Muriel says.

Kamui goes to open his mouth, only for Faust to pop out from under his scarf. Muriel visibly startles at the sight of her, his eyes going wide, and he shifts back, turning towards the door just in time to see Asra shoulder through it, arms loaded with wood logs.

"Who's not welcome where?" he asks, frowning.

Stunned, Muriel looks back and forth between every person and animal in the room, uncomprehending. An endearing smile crosses Asra's lips, and he shuts the door behind him with his boot, depositing the wood by the hearth.

"Muriel, you look well," Asra says by way of greeting, making eye contact with the lumbering man, who avoids meeting his gaze, looking almost ashamed, or perhaps embarrassed. Asra's violet gaze shifts to the wolf afterwards. "You too, Inanna." Noticing the blood matting her fur, Asra's smile drops, and he asks, "Did she catch something?"

"No," comes Muriel's terse response. He drags his hood down, avoiding looking directly at anyone else in the room as he heads for the bed, sitting down on the edge of it, stance wide, looking resigned. Inanna sits at Asra's feet, looking expectantly up at him, and he leans forward just enough to pet her behind the ears.

"It got away," Muriel continues, sounding as though he had to force himself to speak anything more. Kamui quirks a brow, curious. Green eyes turn towards Asra, the rest of Muriel remaining still, as if afraid to be caught looking. "You look exhausted."

"I am," Asra says, kneeling by the dwindling fire to offer it more wood. "Kamui and I just got back from Nopal," he explains, his eyes catching on the wolf once more. He reaches forward to continue petting her, the wolf's tail thudding against the ground, pleased. "Inanna, what did you get a bite out of?"

"I didn't see it. It ran by," Muriel explains, brows furrowed with some manner of worry or confusion; Kamui can't tell, exactly. He steps closer to Asra, kneeling by the fire at his side. Kamui doesn't miss the way Muriel tenses, uncomfortable by the reminder of his presence. "She said it tasted foul."

Kamui raises a brow; 'she _said'_? Was Muriel a magician...?

Or perhaps this was some dog thing Kamui just didn't understand. He was never too terribly good with them; where were you even supposed to pet them? What were they into? He had no idea.

Inanna sneezes, and Asra quickly pulls back, avoiding getting blood splattered on him. She skulks away, passing by Kamui, who's entire body tenses reflexively, heading for a nearby pile of furs and settling in. After she's gone, Faust and Kamui both sag in relief, and she slithers from him to Asra, eager to return to him.

"All right, well," Asra starts, distracting his apprentice away from his wolf-based discomfort, "Should we get introductions out of the way?"

 _I thought we already knew each other_ , Kamui wants to say, but holds back. Even with everything presented to him—Muriel's name, his face, his voice, his attitude—he couldn't remember a single thing about him.

Asra turns to him, "This is Muriel," he turns to Muriel, "Muriel, this is Kamui."

Muriel is silent; green eyes meet red, but no words are exchanged, naught but a tense silence as they regard each other. Asra looks encouragingly between them, his smile starting to wane.

Eventually, Kamui speaks up. "You know me already," he says. It isn't a question.

"You wouldn't remember," Muriel responds, his voice quiet, like he lacked the energy to say it properly. Kamui purses his lips; there was something a little upsetting about this.

"I don't remember a lot of things," Kamui says. "That's nothing new."

There's no response from Muriel, leading Asra to speak up. "You know, Kamui remembers best from smell."

There's a tense, closed mouth sigh from Muriel, like he can't even believe what Asra's suggesting. "And?" he asks, irritable.

Asra doesn't back down. "It might help him remember if you submit yourself for smelling." He smiles sweetly. "Please."

Kamui almost snorts, just barely holding it in.

The look on Muriel's face speaks volumes about his discomfort, but still he manages a single, hesitant nod. Kamui shoots Asra an amused look before standing and striding over to Muriel, who automatically leans away. His eyes keep a close watch on Kamui, as if he might draw a knife and stab him suddenly. With no shame at all he leans in towards Muriel's shaggy black hair, close enough for the strands to brush against the tip of his nose, and breathes deeply. The sound of his inhale has Muriel twitch with a barely restrained jolt of surprise, leaning even farther away.

A deep sense of nostalgia hits Kamui suddenly, wiping the smile from his face. He knew this man. They'd met not once, but many times before—but only flashes of memories come to him. Outside the shop. In the market. Within a dream. Barely substantial, and unable to hold a candle to what Kamui feels the true depth of their relationship must have been. A little frustrated, he pulls back, almost missing the blush on Muriel's cheeks with how distracted the feeling has him.

Asra seems to notice his turmoil. "It's harder than usual to remember him, huh? It's not just you. It's the spell. Muriel's... curse," he explains.

"My gift," Muriel quickly corrects him. Surprised, Kamui turns to look at him. "It lets me be forgotten. Completely alone. Exactly like I wanted."

Kamui frowns.

"Uh huh," Asra agrees, "People can see him, talk to him, but they don't remember him when he leaves."

There are similar spells—but none so permanent, to Kamui's knowledge. He turns from Asra back to Muriel, studying his expression. Muriel returns the glance with a challenging stare; daring Kamui to say something. Something he's probably heard before, plenty of times already. Kamui just tilts his head, perplexed.

He couldn't relate. Sure, it would be nice to go out into public without drawing unwanted attention, but... the people in his life, however minor their roles were, mattered to him too much. To even so much as go out to order bread and not have the baker remember him was too upsetting to even think about. Having his own memories disappear was bad enough as it was.

But it didn't take much to figure out that wasn't what Muriel wanted to hear.

"Sorry we dropped in on you like this," Asra says, a tense look on his face; likely a result of the uncomfortable atmosphere. "Why don't we heat up some water and clean Inanna's face?"

Muriel wordlessly stands, heading for a large pot on the other end of the cabin. Kamui scoots in closer to Asra, prepared to help with heating the water, just to catch Muriel glaring at him, a wild look in his eyes. Kamui maintains eye contact, making sure Muriel knew full well how unimpressed he was by the attempts at intimidation—assuming that's what they were.

Muriel drags the pot over to the hearth, depositing it nearby. He retreats back to where Inanna is laid out on the furs, avoiding meeting anyone's eye, eager to be farther away. There's a soft sigh from Asra, his gaze focused on Muriel, looking a bit perplexed. He turns to the pot, filling it with water.

Kamui leans forward to whisper in his ear, covering his mouth with both hands to block it from travelling as much as possible. "Asra, your friend's ridiculously hot."

Asra chokes, concealing a laugh, passing it off as a random cough when Muriel turns to look at him questioningly. He seems suspicious, but turns away all the same.

"Would it surprise you," Asra starts, keeping his voice as low as possible, "If I told you you said the exact same thing, verbatim, the last time you met him?"

Kamui's eyes widen. He shouldn't be surprised; and he isn't, really, not by his horny consistency.

"How do you know him?" he asks, maintaining his low volume from before. Asra smiles, and Kamui can see the memories forming in his eyes.

"Oh, we met a long time ago. It's a funny story," he says. His lip twitches, as if holding back a laugh, turning to look at Muriel from out of the corner of his eyes. "I'll tell you another time. He doesn't like hearing it."

"It's not a funny story," Muriel pipes up, annoyed and maybe a bit flustered, bothered by their topic of discussion.

Asra's lips curl, teasing. "Well, maybe some day it will be. It's only been, what, fifteen years?"

"Seventeen," Muriel corrects.

Kamui's eyes widen, his hands, which had gone to reach for the pot to warm it, faltering. As far as he knew, Asra wasn't much older than thirty, if that. That meant... they were childhood friends?

_Wow._

That went a lot further back than even Kamui's most distant memory of Asra, which—wasn't a pleasurable one. Asra was the first face he remembered seeing, making him Kamui's oldest friend, but that was only three years ago.

"That's incredible," Kamui breathes, astonished. Most friends broke up long before then; it wasn't often he heard of people still being in contact with the friends made in their formative years. Not that he had any intimate knowledge of that.

Asra smiles, pleased by Kamui's comment.

"We lived around the wharf," Asra continues. "There were a lot of orphans living there back then, so it was... hard to be lonely. And sleeping on the beach is fun when you're a kid. It wasn't so bad."

"It was bad," Muriel immediately pipes up, all doom and gloom. "Kids are capable of fathomless cruelty."

"They sure can be," Asra adds, the look on his face making it clear he spoke from experience. "Especially when they're hungry. Speaking of which..."

Asra glances around the room.

"I don't see any food anywhere," he says, a note of concern in his voice.

"I don't have any food anywhere," Muriel responds.

Asra sighs, "O-kay. Have you eaten today?"

 _This sounds familiar_ , Kamui thinks with a grimace, warming the water in the pot with careful precision, wary of boiling it by accident.

With a barely audible sigh, Muriel raises up, looming over Asra as he digs around in his bag. In the meantime, the wolf slinks over to Kamui, who doesn't notice her until she's right next to him, nearly startling him into spilling the water. They make eye contact, but it's impossible for Kamui to figure out what she wants. Did she want food? Pets?

Hesitantly, Kamui reaches for her head, searching her for any signs that it was unwanted or perhaps incorrect, and smooths his hand over her fur like one would a cat. Her ears flatten, which, in cat language, was bad, so he stops. Thinking back to when Asra pet her, he swaps course, petting her behind the ears. This goes over a lot better, as she leans into the touch, baring some of her teeth to swipe her tongue across Kamui's wrist.

He cringes, pulling back his hand, only for Inanna to flop down on her back in front of him, one leg lifted up. This seemed obvious—dogs liked belly rubs or something, right? Cats absolutely hated them, most of the time. His hands are hesitant as he smooths both over her belly, kinda just winging it, fully expecting to be bitten or clawed, but neither end up happening. Inanna seems thrilled, stretching out her leg and flapping her tail with loud thumps.

Surprised, Asra exclaims, "Oh, look who's being friendly!"

"Friendly?" Comes Muriel's bewildered voice. The lumbering giant of a man comes closer to them, watching Kamui's hands apprehensively.

"She's nice," Kamui comments, finally allowing himself to relax. She wasn't attacking or licking all over him or trying to topple him over, nor was she barking like mad. It was pretty ideal.

"She bites," Muriel warns harshly, glaring down at them.

"So do I," Kamui says, at the same time that Asra says, "So does he." Surprised, they turn to each other and laugh.

Muriel closes his eyes with a grimace. "I didn't. Need to know."

Asra laughs, sharing a giddy look with Kamui. "Inanna just loves to be pet," he says.

"Only when you spoil her," Muriel interjects.

"Only when _I_ spoil her?" Asra retorts, raising a brow. "Remember how you used to say that you let her take up half the bed because you slept better on the floor?"

Muriel blushes, averting his eyes. "...The floor makes her joints ache," he mumbles, embarrassed, to which Asra just laughs some more.

Inanna remains firmly planted in front of Kamui's knees, whining when he tries to take his hands away. With a resigned, but light sigh, he rearranges his legs to sit properly and continue petting her. With Inanna arranged pretty close by the water, Muriel sets to washing her fur with a clean cloth, warily keeping track of Kamui's hands until he decides to pull them away. Meanwhile, Asra stares into the fire, the flames dancing on his face.

"So, I'm trying to wrap my head around the fact that the goat is physical enough to bite," Asra says, disturbed. Kamui's head snaps in his direction, startled; where did he get that idea? "Before we left it wasn't physical enough to see clearly. Have you checked the protections around this place?"

"That's what I was just doing," Muriel says, his voice a bit softer and more relaxed now that he was tending to his wolf. Frowning, he adds, "I sensed something unwelcome in the woods."

His eyes meet Kamui's accusingly; frowning, Kamui stares right back. He wasn't sure what exactly the implication was, here, but he didn't want to end up on Muriel's bad side, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Asra hums. "Did you check all of them?"

"Yes."

"Even the one at the top of the tree?"

"...No," Muriel admits, annoyed, like a scolded child. That brings a smug look to Asra's face.

"Well, let's go check it out," he says. Turning to Kamui, he asks, "Are you warmed up?"

"About as much as I'll ever be, I think," Kamui replies. God, he couldn't wait to get back to the shop. Drain out his shoes, brush his hair. Wash his face. Lay down and sleep for three million years. Until then, though, he'd just have to deal with squishy boots and sloppy hair.

Noticing Kamui's mood, Asra leans in, brushing aside pale locks of hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "We'll be done soon," he promises.

Ruby eyes raise to gaze up at him, noticing Muriel pointedly looking away, a deep blush dusting across the center of his lightly tanned face. "I can handle it," Kamui says, not wanting to look prissy in front of either of them. And he _could_ handle it—just not happily.

Awkwardly, Muriel interrupts to say, "Put the fire out. It's hot." He raises to his feet immediately afterwards, eager to get away from the two of them, and trudges outside. Once he's gone, Asra lets out a laugh.

"We've embarrassed him," he says, smiling in amusement. Kamui dives in to press his lips against Asra's neck.

"We could've done worse," he reasons, nuzzling into Asra's hair. "And, anyway, you're the one not wearing a shirt. I'm covered up."

Asra's lips quirk into a grin. "Oh, yeah? And where did my shirt go, I wonder...?"

"Hey, you gave it to me," Kamui says, shrugging. He sticks his arms through the sleeves of Asra's shirt. "Maybe you should find a different shirt," he suggests, waggling his eyebrows at Asra, who huffs in amusement.

"Hmm, is red really my color...?"

"You look dazzling in any color," Kamui says sweetly, fixing Asra with a charming smile. Asra laughs, but lifts Kamui's shirt anyway, holding it up to his face and breathing in its scent. Kamui's eyes widen, feeling his heart speed up a bit at the sight, and judging by the look on Asra's face as he side-eyes him, it's intentional.

He pulls Kamui's shirt on over his head, the fabric being a bit of a tighter fit, but in only the most flattering of ways, in Kamui's professional opinion. Together they sort through the now-dry clothing, most of it ending up back on Kamui's body, with Asra only wearing Kamui's shirt and scarf. The multicolored jacket ends up folded neatly inside Asra's satchel.

"You need the warmth more than I do," Asra says, while helping Kamui put his sash back on.

Once dressed, the two exit the cabin, Faust tucking herself into the tighter curve of Asra's borrowed red scarf. Muriel is waiting nearby, and when his eyes land on them, he stares intensely between the two of them, eyes fixated on their obvious outfit swaps. It's hard to tell how he feels about it, exactly, and he turns away before Kamui can get a read on his mood.

"Let's go," Muriel says, not bothering to wait for anyone's input before walking off.

Kamui meets Asra's gaze, seeing the magician smile and shrug his shoulders. Their hands find their way to each other on instinct, and they follow after Muriel, always several steps behind.

Along the way, Asra speaks up, keeping his voice down. "I guess I never told you about any of this, huh?"

Kamui blinks at him. "What? Muriel?"

"Well, not just him. I haven't told you much about my past," Asra says. He adopts a playful grin. "And you seem to be quite curious about that."

"I-I apologized, okay," Kamui sputters, embarrassed. Asra laughs in response.

"I told you I don't mind. I just... haven't told you very much because I didn't think it was fair to you, whose past is still hidden," Asra explains. "I didn't want you to feel lonely."

The sentiment warms Kamui's cheeks, and he squeezes Asra's hand a bit tighter. "That's sweet. You didn't have to do that, though."

"I wanted to," Asra insists.

Kamui hums. "I didn't know you were an orphan," he says. "Can I ask what happened? Or is that a painful memory?"

"It's... a bit of a long story," Asra says. "We can talk about it back at the shop, if you want."

"We're here," Muriel says, drawing the attention of the two magicians. They stop by a tall tree, and without much preamble, Muriel starts to scale up the side of it. Asra calls after him to be careful and not to look down, to which Muriel doesn't give much of a response.

After the man is out of earshot, Asra, still staring up the tree after him, says, "I'm worried about him."

"Worried? About _him_? I think he can climb a tree just fine, Asra," Kamui says, bemused.

"No, I mean..." Asra sighs. "He's never really liked being around people, but he's never _hated_ them like he does now."

Oh. Kamui peers up the tree, unable to locate Muriel anywhere among the branches. It was hard to imagine he was ever... softer, friendlier, perhaps. He had too many sharp edges, but. Maybe that was the point—he had wrapped himself in barbs, like a protective sheet of armor.

"Did something happen to him?" Kamui asks.

Asra's expression darkens. "Count Lucio happened," he says bitterly. Kamui audibly groans.

"God, why am I not surprised? What did he do? Or was it nothing in particular apart from his _super pleasant_ and _affable_ personality?"

"Muriel doesn't like to talk about it. I'd rather not either, if he's not comfortable with it," Asra says, to which Kamui nods in understanding. "He was trying to protect me. I didn't even find out about it until it was too late. And there I was, helping the person who was hurting him, trying to protect _him_."

"You didn't know," Kamui says. There's something that changes in Asra's expression at that, something hard to read but unpleasant nonetheless. Almost like he doesn't agree, or like there's more to it than Kamui is privy to. Either way, Asra doesn't elaborate.

"He's dead now, anyway," Kamui continues, his tone cold and unfeeling. It doesn't seem to phase Asra at all.

"He's coming back, it seems," Asra says. "Or, it's like he's trying to."

"I'll kill him," Kamui says suddenly, catching Asra by surprise with just how little it sounds like he's joking. "You know, again."

A nervous laugh finds its way out of Asra's throat. "You didn't the first time," he says, aiming for lightness with his tone.

"Neither did the man who confessed," Kamui says, not meeting Asra's eye. He turns to look out at the forest, like he expects to find something, or someone, standing there, watching them. "Something's very wrong, Asra."

"What makes you—"

The sound of Inanna howling cuts off Asra's question, drawing his and Kamui's attention. Not long after, Muriel drops down from the tree, a wild look in his eyes.

"He's here," Muriel says.

"Here? Right now? Are you sure?"

Muriel averts his gaze, as if he expects to find something creeping up on him, his brows creased. "Yeah." A shadow falls over his eyes. "It was _him_."

 

  
Climbing several feet up a mountain wasn't how Kamui wanted to spend his day, but here he was anyway, following along despite how badly he wanted to drop to the floor and sleep for three years. Asra keeps him going, encouraging him quietly enough that Muriel (probably) doesn't overhear. Once they reach their destination, Kamui collapses on the nearest, comfortable-enough surface. Not long after, he can feel Asra's hand rubbing gentle circles on his back.

"I'm sorry. We'll go home soon," he says. With a tired groan, Kamui pushes himself up off the ground, leaning back against the side of the mountain. Asra holds out a canteen for him to drink from, with he gratefully accepts. With Muriel's back turned to them, Asra leans in to press a kiss to Kamui's cheek. "You're doing good."

Downing as much of the water as he can handle, Kamui leans his head against Asra's shoulder. Afterwards, he passes the canteen back, and Asra drinks the rest. "Praise me more," Kamui mumbles, snuggling in against Asra's side.

"I think you've had enough for now," Asra laughs.

With a soft sigh, Kamui looks out at the other end of the ledge, where Muriel is sat, doing something Kamui can't quite make out from his viewpoint. Asra notices where his attention has fallen, and starts to explain the concept of runecasting to him.

"He gets better readings up here," Asra says.

"Would the cards speak clearer up here, too?"

Asra hums. "Maybe. But we're going to be doing something a bit different," he says. The statement garners a look of intrigue from Kamui, followed closely by a bit of a grimace.

"I don't have to get up, do I?"

"No, you don't, oh delicate prince," Asra teases, receiving a light shove in response. "Remember the place I took you at the fountain, on the other side of the water?" Kamui nods. With a soft smile, Asra proceeds to explain the gateways to Kamui, most of which doesn't seem to phase him—except the concept of potentially having his own, which sparks some excitement in his tired eyes.

"Wait, really? How do we do that? I want one," Kamui babbles with the energy of an enthusiastic child, sitting up straighter, fully invested. He wraps his arms around Asra's bicep. "I have some design ideas."

Asra chuckles softly at his enthusiasm. "You'll have to show it to me some day," he says. "For now, let's focus on something else."

He sits up, turning toward Kamui, who eases back. "I'm going to take us back there," Asra says. Kamui's eyes widen, but he quickly steels his expression, nodding determinedly.

"I can do it," Kamui says.

"I know you can." Asra smiles, something like affection and pride dancing in his eyes. "I'll be right there with you the whole time, guiding you."

The sound of footsteps scuffing against the dirt draws their attention over to Muriel, who stands not far from them.

"You're taking him with you?" he asks. His eyes remain fixed in the general direction of Asra, avoiding acknowledging Kamui's presence. There isn't much to see in his expression, as far as Kamui can tell. Perhaps nature relaxes him?

"I am," Asra responds. "I need to ask my mentor some questions. And... I think it's time they meet."

Kamui thinks to ask some questions of his own—several questions, perhaps all at once. But Asra takes both his hands, their eyes catching, and Kamui becomes too distracted to remember any of his inquiries. Asra's aura, a smooth blending of lilac and violet, shimmers around him like delicate chiffon, lightly glimmering.

"Muriel will watch over us on the physical plane," he says. "His aura is strongest when he casts."

"His strength doesn't really concern me," Kamui comments, glancing over at Muriel to see the man pointedly avoiding his gaze as he takes a seat in the dirt across from them.

"All you should have to do is close your eyes," Asra instructs. He obeys, trusting Asra completely. "Now breathe deeply, and empty your mind."

Meditation, huh? Alright. He could do this. Nevermind all the times he's never been able to do this, growing bored quickly. This time, he lets the feel of Asra's hands and his aura wash over him, calming him, and... tries his best. It feels a lot more like falling asleep than anything else; he tries not to question if he's doing it correctly, keeping his mind unoccupied.

His eyes open of their own accord, like being greeted with a dream, no sense of transition between sleeping and waking. The colorful sands and iridescent insects are instantly familiar, and he turns to find Asra stood before him, his clothing swapped back to being his own, their hands connected just as they were before.

"Well. That was easy," Kamui says, trying for a casual smile. It was a little nervewracking, actually, a strange contrast to how serene and beautiful his environment was. He felt like he should be doing something and nothing at the same time.

Asra smiles back. "It's nice to see you're so confident about this," he says. His smile turns a bit more devious; Kamui likes the look of it. "But, we've already seen this place, haven't we? Don't you want to see something new?"

"Ooohh, where are you taking me now, oh great and powerful magician?" Kamui teases, following as Asra wordlessly steps backwards into the water, his boots sinking beneath the surface. They keep going, but before they can get too far, Asra makes sure to inform Kamui that he won't need to breathe.

"Just let the water guide you," he says, "You won't even need to swim."

Kamui laughs, right as the water raises up to his shoulders. "Lucky, that, considering I don't think I know how."

Their heads dip below the water, and instantly everything changes; an expanse of darkness and stars, the kind of thing Kamui is starting to associate with the shift between worlds. Is that even the right term? He'll have to ask Asra about it later. Right now, it hardly even feels like he exists, like anything exists.

Not until he breaches the water again, sand beneath his palm as he drags himself forward. His eyes flutter open, seeing water drip down his body but not feeling it. Suddenly he realizes he can't feel much of anything, including Asra's hands. There's a flash of panic as he thinks he might be alone here, on some magic beach he's never seen before. Was this even the right place?

"I'm here," comes the sound of Asra's voice, drawing Kamui's attention to his right. He sees Asra, sat up on his knees, a tawny hand wrapped around his pale one. He's framed by a soft glow, subtle, almost spiritual.

Crawling up out of the water in full, Kamui's immediately distracted by the sights all around them. The dark sand glitters beneath the tides, stars twinkling amongst the lime and mauve aurora overhead.

"Oh," Kamui breathes, mesmerized. "Where is this...?"

"This is The Magician's realm," Asra's says. For a second, Kamui just nods, until the words fully process.

"Wait, the what?"

His question goes unanswered, Asra's attention catching on something in the distance. "They're here," he says, raising to his feet, Kamui following suit, hand remaining firmly clasped in Asra's.

Following along beside him, Kamui looks around, wondering what he was referring to, eyes landing on a set of footprints in the sand. They travel across the beach, ducking under the leaves of a drooping tree. A figure appears before them, shimmering into existence in the blink of an eye.

"Asra. You're back so soon."

Kamui gapes at the figure stood before them; a fox in a humanoid shape, dressed in delicate fabrics with a hand crooked against their chin. Their eyes are formless, a pale amethyst void, glittering, drawing Kamui's gaze. He watches as a grin curls around The Magician's lips, their fox ears perking.

"And Kamui... do you recognize my voice?"

It's strange, hearing them speak so clearly, right in front of him, alive and real as opposed to being like a voice in the back of his head. Even so, it's unmistakable. He glances quickly back to Asra before saying, "Yes." It's a bit hard to tell on a non-human face, but it almost seems like his response is pleasing to The Magician.

Asra is quick to get them back on track, jumping right to the point. "There's an entity manifesting itself in the palace. We have questions."

"If it's answers you seek, you're in the wrong place," The Magician responds. "If it's more questions, come with me."

Without waiting for a response, The Magician turns, peeling back an invisible curtain, a tear appearing through the air, revealing a dimly lit interior which they step into. A colorful tent forms around the fold, completing the image.

With them gone, Kamui tugs on Asra's hand like a lost child; not that it can really be felt to begin with. "Asra," he starts, without looking away from the tent. The aforementioned magician turns to him with amusement dancing in his eyes, lips curled into a knowing smile.

"Yes...?" he drawls.

"That's The Magician. From the card."

"Try not to get too starstruck," Asra chuckles. "They like playing tricks. Especially on new blood."

They step inside the tent, Kamui ducking under the curtain as Asra holds it open for him. Squinting at the interior, he finds shapes and colors popping out of the darkness, transforming into a familiar sight: the backroom of the shop, more-or-less exactly as it was when Kamui was last there. It's incredibly surreal, the way it looks just as he remembered, yet lacked all the familiar scents and other sensations he had grown accustomed to. Like a dream, yet not.

Unphased, Asra leads him over to the table, where The Magician is seated. Without parting their hands, he leads Kamui to a seat; it feels a little like they're on a date, but he keeps that thought to himself. Regardless, there's an amused look on The Magician's face as the two settle in, a deck of cards being shuffled in their hands.

"An entity is manifesting itself in the palace..." The Magician repeats, their tone curious. Their head is turned more towards the cards in their hands than either of the magicians seated around them. Kamui finds his eyes drawn to the deck as well. "That's a bit vague, isn't it?"

"It's Lucio," Asra immediately responds. The Magician's ears perk, their head tilting with a soft hum.

" _Lucio_ appeared before you? ...You don't trust appearances, do you, Asra? Looking like Lucio is easy."

"It doesn't look like Lucio," Asra says. "But I know it's him."

"Then what does it look like?"

Kamui's eyes widen, stuck, still, on the deck of cards. "The Devil," he says, with a breathless tone like he'd just discovered the answer to everything, when in truth, it just left him even more perplexed. Both Asra and The Magician turn to look at him, Asra with his eyes wide, surprised, while The Magician looks almost impressed; or so Kamui thinks, anyway.

"The Devil? Which one?" asks The Magician, their hands stilling, the deck placed face down under their claws. They spread the cards out across the table, laying exactly three cards before drawing their hands back. Without thinking, Kamui pulls one at random, revealing the image underneath; The Devil, a white goat grasping black chains, tattoos strikingly familiar.

"This is it," Kamui says. He turns to Asra, a hint of excitement in his eyes. "Haven't you ever seen the painting in the palace dining room? The figure in the middle, it's supposed to be Lucio, from what Nadia told me, and it looks exactly like this."

Asra's expression remains genuinely surprised, his attention shifting back and forth between Kamui and the upturned card. "I... had forgotten all about that," Asra admits.

"The goat has a terrifying tenacity," The Magician says, drawing the attention back to them. "Always pushing their own limits. When one sees another reach new heights, it is compelled to surpass them, for better or worse. Those are the traits that Asra associated with The Devil card when he made this deck. These were also the traits Lucio identified with the most."

The Magician lays out their hand, smoothing the cards into a neat pile before shuffling them back into the deck, leaving behind the Devil card. "We major Arcana are archetypes, forms of pure and ancient energy in the human subconscious," they say. "You may not know me well yet, Kamui, but we speak often, do we not? As you grow more familiar with my character, you'll learn to spot me from an imposter taking my shape. Taking shapes is easy magic."

A brilliant plume of blue smoke covers The Magician, startling Kamui with the suddenness of the spell. When the smoke clears, The Magician is gone, a strikingly similar visage of Asra taking their place. For a second, Kamui thinks they must have traded places, but when he looks beside him, Asra is still there, and when he faces forward again, so is the other one. The grin on the second Asra's face is only a hint more devious than he had ever actually seen on the real Asra, the only thing cluing him into the fact that The Magician still sat across from him.

But, nevertheless, it... appeals, the way this Asra is looking at him. A bit more dangerous, perhaps.

"Say," The Magician starts, their voice perfectly identical to Asra's, both in tone and in cadence, "How well do you think you know your master, Kamui?"

"He's not my master," Kamui immediately responds, much to the first Asra's relief. "Kind of tired of hearing that, honestly."

The Magician's lips quirk curiously, their eyes narrowing. "Oh? But hasn't he taught you everything you know?"

"Not everything," Kamui says, glancing over at Asra.

"Kamui is curious, too," Asra says. "He learns from his own experiences, not mine."

"I'm pretty sure I taught you a thing or two," Kamui says, smiling. He reaches for Asra's hand, smoothing a finger over a painted-blue fingernail. "I showed you how to color your nails, without paint." Asra chuckles, gazing fondly down at his apprentice.

"Among other things," he says.

"Interesting," The Magician says, violet eyes widening a tad. "You two seem to know each other quite well. It makes me wonder... how well do _I_ know you, Asra? As well as Kamui does? ...Better?"

They smile, playful and sly; Kamui risks a glance over at Asra, the expression on his face apprehensive, yet subtly so, like he was trying to hide it.

"Surely then I could imitate you and fool him, don't you think?"

Scarlet eyes widen, darting back over to Asra. They were actually going to, weren't they?

He wonders—would he know the difference? It had only been three years, granted, a very close three years, where most of the time Asra was at home, Kamui was right there beside him. He liked to think he knew a lot about him, enough that he had already spotted a difference between the two twin Asras, but The Magician hadn't been trying yet. Had they?

It didn't really matter, but it felt like it mattered a lot that Kamui be able to tell the difference. Like it would make him a bad friend, or—b-boyfriend, or something. Could he call himself that?

Asra squeezes his hand below the table, offering some gentle reassurance. Maybe... Maybe if he couldn't tell... could he get them to somehow give it away?

"What do you think, Kamui? Could you tell your Asra apart from mine?" The Magician asks. There's a knowing look in their eyes that has Kamui wondering; can they read minds? Is that how this place works? Or is he just really obvious?

He looks down to where Asra's hand rests around his, the sensation dull, but there all the same, so long as he concentrated on it. It gives him an idea.

"It would feel different," Kamui says. "I don't know. How well could you replicate the way he touches me?"

There's a blush on Asra's face and a wide grin on The Magician's, amused by Kamui's response. They hum, thoughtful. "Why don't we put it to the test?"

Asra glances between the other two, uncertain, but Kamui just sends him a smile, squeezing his hand as he had earlier. It seemed they were both nervous, but—Kamui was feeling weirdly confident, all of a sudden. He couldn't be sure why. Perhaps he just thought The Magician would have no way of knowing what a more intimate Asra was like; while at the same time pondering if the Arcana could read minds. A conundrum.

The Magician stands, and the others quickly follow suit. With a light touch they send Kamui spinning on his heel, dizzying him. When he can manage to steady himself, a hand on his temple as if that would somehow help, he blinks rapidly, willing the room to stop spinning. Once he's able to focus, he nearly chokes at the sight in front of him.

The twin Asras are standing face-to-face, intimately close, one with his hands on the other's chest, the other holding the first around the midback. The first looks to Kamui with something bordering on uncertainty, while the other regards him with a smooth, playful smile. Kamui feels he immediately knows the difference based on that alone, despite how well both expressions fit on Asra's face.

Kamui nervously clears his throat behind a closed fist. "I-I think I've had dreams that looked like this before," he says, aiming for humorous when really, this was almost too flustering to look at directly, leaving him sounding embarrassed and awkward.

One of the Asras chuckles, saying, "Really? When was that?"

Kamui swallows thickly, wondering if he should respond to that. Was it Asra asking, or The Magician, looking for more information to use against him? "Uh," Kamui eloquently responds.

There's a chuckle from one of them—Kamui isn't sure, he's stopped looking, the weight of their combined gaze too much to handle all at once. He'd be an absolute liar if he said the thought of there being two of Asra wasn't turning him on a bit.

One of the two steps forward, reaching for his hand. He feels weirdly jittery as the Asra before him brings his hand up to softly press a kiss to the back of his hand. The magician's cool smile fades away, as if it were merely a facade, brows upturned with concern.

"It's alright, Kamui," Asra says, his soothing voice washing over Kamui in waves, "Just relax. Don't think about it too much."

Just... relax? He glances over this Asra's shoulder at the other, uncertain. The other is giving him a similar expression, but regarding the first Asra with something akin to jealousy in his eyes. Kamui wasn't sure how he was supposed to take that. Was Asra the jealous type? If he wasn't, then why would The Magician try looking that way? Unless... they were doing it on purpose, to see if Kamui would know...??

This was getting paradoxical. He decides to take the first Asra's advice, taking a deep breath. "Right," he sighs, focusing on the person stood before him, ignoring the other to the best of his ability. He remains skeptical, but doesn't resist as this Asra presses another kiss to his hand, moving on to brush aside some of Kamui's hair. He presses his hands to either side of Kamui's face, his touch gentle and his gaze intense, eyes raking over Kamui's face as if committing every detail to memory.

This Asra takes a single half-step forward, their bodies coming closer together. On instinct Kamui raises his hands to lay against Asra's chest, his breath hitching as their mouths rest inches apart. He smooths his hand under Asra's shirt, feeling the gentle two-step rhythm of his heart beating, and—

Wait.

Warm thumbs brush against his cheekbones, breath warm against Kamui's skin, and Asra leans in, their lips brushing, before Kamui pulls back, startled. Asra looks surprised for a moment, before smiling softly and trying again. Kamui tries not to pull away this time, allowing Asra's smooth, soft lips to move over his, eyes fluttering closed.

It really did feel the same—Asra's fingertips digging into the back of his neck, cloying, his kisses hungry and desperate like he thought he'd never get another chance to do this again. It's almost easy to just allow himself to melt into the kiss, the desire to wrap his arms around Asra's back, tight, raising sharply, but. He hesitates. This felt right, yet wrong at the same time.

Would they both feel like that?

Asra seems to sense his reluctance, as he pulls away soon after. There's something in his eyes, something painful, that has Kamui wondering if he's gotten it all wrong.

"I—Sorry," Kamui says, the apology slipping out without thinking. He averts his eyes, watching the other Asra closely, something conflicted in his expression, hidden under an attempt at a poker face. He turns back to the Asra in front of him, sensing something similar in his gaze, before receiving a small, comforting smile. Soft lips press against his cheek, his skin buzzing beneath Asra's lips.

"It's alright, Kamui," he says, speaking intimately low. With one final glance over Kamui's face, his smile drops, lips parting before he lets his hands fall away, taking several steps back.

Despite his suspicions, Kamui can feel his face burn. He's unable to force himself to look up to watch the other Asra approach, keeping his eyes fixed on one of the curtains nearby instead. He only turns his gaze once Asra stops in front of him, his expression hard to read. Kamui glances briefly back at the other Asra, catching the intense look in his eye as he observes the other two.

This Asra is a bit more hesitant, a soft sigh parting his lips as he lays his hands on Kamui's hips, thumbs brushing under the edges of his fringed shirt. He doesn't say anything at all, his eyes searching Kamui's for any sign of discomfort before moving in closer.

Without thinking Kamui puts his arms around Asra's neck, like it was the most natural thing to do, and Asra takes it as encouragement, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Kamui's jaw. He sighs softly, one of Asra's hands moving to thread into his hair. Fingertips graze against his scalp and suddenly it's really easy to forget where he is and who else is in the room with them.

Asra's lips trail kisses up to the corner of Kamui's mouth, at which point Kamui immediately turns his head to catch Asra's mouth against his. A small noise of surprise escapes Asra's throat at that, Kamui's arms pulling back enough to caress the sides of Asra's face, pulling him closer. The magician settles easily into the kiss, his arm raising to wrap around Kamui's midback, torsos pulled flush against each other.

It feels the same as before, yet not—the same taste, the same enthusiasm, but different, easier; Kamui's chest feels full with the extent of Asra's affection for him, and when Asra pulls away, there's a desire, an _urge_ to chase after him, to draw him back in and never let him leave. He can just barely see Asra repressing the same urge, stepping out of Kamui's embrace with an incredible reluctance, like a child not wanting to get out of bed in the morning. There's a deep blush on his face that Kamui is sure he's matching, at the very least.

Once the two Asra's are side by side, one of them asks, "Can you tell the difference?"

Ruby red eyes remain fixed on the second Asra, face still colored, looking almost embarrassed. With no hesitation at all, he answers, "Yes."

He blinks, and when his eyes open, they've all changed positions, seated back at the table like they'd never left. The fox-like form of The Magician is seated across from him, Asra to his right, looking apprehensive; it has Kamui wondering if maybe he was wrong, if he's upset Asra by getting more invested in the wrong version of him. He feels fairly certain, but there was always a chance.

"Interesting," The Magician says, their claw-like hand quirked under their chin. "Perhaps you know him better than I thought." The fox's lips quirk into a mischievous grin. "Or perhaps I'm a better kisser than you thought."

Kamui's eyes widen, and he looks to Asra in a mild panic. Asra's head is turned toward The Magician, but he stares at Kamui from out of the corner of his eyes. It's hard to read his expression, but Kamui doesn't like it.

"It was a trick question, of course," The Magician continues. They reach out to tap Kamui's card with the tip of one claw, the card vanishing from view. "When any two beings become familiar enough, the line between them can seem to disappear. To connect with one of the Arcana on a personal level can awaken a wellspring of power. But if the connection is too deep, you run the risk of losing your individuality. Becoming your archetype.

"Lucio tried to become one of the Arcana, but he failed."

Asra's eyes widen, his attention snapping fully over to his mentor. "He tried to... become The Devil? How?"

"Why don't you ask him?" The Magician asks, reaching out once more to send Kamui spinning, his vision blurring, darkening.

Like waking from a dream, he becomes more and more aware of raindrops ricocheting off his body. The sound is gentle, returning slowly to full volume, and his eyes flutter open, seeing Asra sat in front of him, their hands held between them, just as he remembers. To the side, Muriel remains, still as a statue.

Kamui watches as Asra drifts to awareness, his eyes blinking open slowly, adjusting to the change in lighting. Kamui gives his hands a grounding squeeze, and Asra returns with a small smile before looking to Muriel. The man already has his eyes directed at Asra.

"Did you learn anything?" Asra asks, gesturing with his eyes down towards Muriel's hands.

"No," the man responds simply. He sounds tired, Kamui thinks, almost as if he'd been asleep the entire time. "Did you?"

"Lucio tried to become The Devil," Asra says, his brows furrowed apprehensively. Muriel's expression remains mostly unchanged, his eyes falling shut with a quiet sigh.

"Are you surprised."

"Not really," Asra admits. "It does seem like something he would do. But I am concerned."

He peers upwards at the heavy storm clouds overhead, gently pouring the remainder of its water out onto the land below. "The rain feels good right now," he says, turning to look at Kamui. "If we hurry back, we might make it to the city before it gets bad."

Despite feeling weirdly energized after his trip into another world, Kamui finds himself sagging with relief. "Please," he says. "I'm gonna sleep forever."

Asra chuckles softly. "Don't do that. I'll miss you."


	6. Strength - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which the apprentice is incapable of minding his own business

It's nearing sundown by the time they reach the shop. The rain is more-or-less entirely absent inside the city, but still Kamui wants nothing more than to get inside and collapse into bed, palace be damned. Walking so much was not his strong suit.

"It feels like it should be night by now," Kamui groans, pausing nearby the shop to lean against its outer wall, shifting his weight around. Asra continues on towards the door, reaching forward to deactivate the sigils, a playful smirk on his face.

"Mmm, you know. You wouldn't tire so easily if you ate more," he says. Kamui levels him with a mild look. Heaving a sigh he pushes closer to the door, just to lean back against the wall right next to it. Not really needing to look to finish what he was doing, Asra's attention shifts to Kamui. There's a spark of something devious in his eyes as he says, "You'd have a lot more energy for... certain activities."

The way he says that has Kamui's face heating up. The way Asra's eyes trace the line of his body afterwards makes it even worse.

They step inside, and Kamui flops down on the nearest seat with a hefty sigh. Laying his head down on the table, he stretches his limbs, hearing Asra laugh softly in the background.

"You can make it farther than that, Kamui," Asra says teasingly. "Unless you'd like me to carry you?"

Kamui tilts his head to peer up at Asra. "Oh my god, can you?" His undeniable eagerness has Asra letting out an amused breath, his expression fond as he gazes down at Kamui.

"No," Asra says simply, his grin growing wider before he sidesteps into the backroom. Kamui groans after him, complaining about him being a tease, but receiving no response.

Eventually he manages to push himself to his feet, not enjoying being left alone. He'd spent a large majority of the past three years alone, and it was overrated. He wanders upstairs in search of Asra, finding him perched on the edge of their bed, removing his boots. Kamui gravitates towards him.

"See, you didn't need me to carry you after all," Asra teases. Shucking off his shoes, he turns his gaze on Kamui, not expecting it when he drops to his knees in front of Asra, arms wrapping around his waist. Kamui rests his head against Asra's torso, holding him as tight as he could without tiring himself out.

"Missed you," Kamui mumbles, rubbing his cheek against the soft wool of Asra's borrowed shirt. Asra's fingers comb through his hair, dragging a soft sigh from Kamui's lips. He leans into the touch.

He expects Asra to tease him somehow, but the response he gets is surprisingly earnest. "I missed you, too," Asra says, quietly; Kamui can _hear_ the blush in his voice. Can perfectly picture his expression, shy and nervous with his eyes gazing off to the side. Kamui just smiles, nuzzling in against Asra's waist.

And lowering, his cheek dragging down the knit fabric, hands slowly coming to rest at Asra's thighs. With a deceptively innocent hum Kamui buries his nose into the crook of Asra's thigh, hand curling around the back of it, breathing deeply. Asra's thigh twitches, legs parting automatically to give Kamui more room.

"I thought you were tired?" Asra asks. Kamui hums, the vibrations going right to Asra's crotch. He doesn't bother responding, nudging underneath the red dress shirt with some difficulty. He'd have to remember to find something easier to deal with next time. Maybe something low cut.

Once that's out of the way, he places a lingering kiss directly over Asra's crotch, through the fabric. He pulls back to drag the flat of his tongue over the area, hearing the magician's breath hitch.

"You're teasing me," Asra accuses, tightening his grip in Kamui's hair. He still doesn't respond, reaching up with one hand to undo the buttons of Asra's pants. There are no objections, nothing but a soft sigh passing Asra's lips as Kamui presses kisses against the bare skin of his pelvis.

Easing his pants down past his thighs, Kamui trails kisses downwards, lowering slowly between warm, soft thighs. For a moment he just stares, biting his lip, but before Asra can say anything he dives in, languidly drawing his tongue up the length of Asra's entrance, feeling his thighs twitch and breathing momentarily still with a startled gasp. It's encouraging, causing Kamui to repeat the motion several times before moving on. He presses his lips against Asra's clit in a firm kiss, hearing the magician laugh softly overhead. Then he wraps his lips around it, sucking, and a very different, very needy sound escapes Asra instead.

Long, deft hands curl around his hair, nails stroking across his scalp. Outside his control he makes a sound somewhat resembling a purr and the vibrations cause Asra to shiver, his breaths coming out heavier and faster. Kamui's eyes fall shut, focusing on nothing but the way Asra feels, the sounds he makes, his taste. The smell alone is intoxicating, and Kamui feels he could stay here for quite a while.

Which might just happen, as Asra's thighs tighten around his head, ankles crossed behind his back. It's more arousing than he thought it would be, his cock stirring with interest at the assertive gesture. Eyes fluttering open, he tries to look up, but the fringes of Asra's borrowed shirt get in his eyes, forcing him to brush them aside. The sight must look pretty amusing, as Asra chuckles.

"Can't get enough of looking at me, can you?" he teases, his low voice wavering and breathless. The hands in Kamui's hair rescind just long enough for the magician to undress a bit more, baring his chest. With a seductive curl of his lips, he runs his hands through Kamui's hair, saying, "Better?"

 _God, you're beautiful_ , Kamui wants to say, but he isn't willing to pull away long enough to vocalize it. Instead, he draws the flat of his tongue over Asra's clit, swirling his tongue around it. It speaks enough of his appreciation, he thinks.

When Asra cums, it's with his hands pressing hard against the back of Kamui's head, rooting him in place. Hips stuttering, he grinds against Kamui's face, temporarily smothering him, an action which just has his own hips jerking, seeking friction. It takes maybe a full minute before the shudders stop racking his body, calming enough to let Kamui go. For a moment he just rests his head on Asra's thigh, licking his lips and wiping his face off on his arm.

Several long moments after, Asra tugs at his shoulders, urging him up onto the bed. He goes willingly, allowing himself to be pulled tight against Asra's chest. Despite the sort of calm the magician was likely reaching, Kamui's heart was pounding, his neglected cock throbbing between his legs. He tries to ignore it for Asra's sake, letting him cling and catch his breath.

A sigh parts Kamui's lips, and he nuzzles in against Asra's chest, peppering kisses. "God, you're perfect."

Asra grins slyly. " _You're_ perfect."

"You're really pretty, Asra," Kamui counters, like it was a competition. He raises up on his elbows, hovering over the top of Asra just to gaze down on his flushed and dazed face. "I can't take my eyes off of you."

There's something pitiful in Asra's eyes as he says that which has Kamui wanting to praise him until his throat goes dry. To wax poetic about his beauty, his elegance, his kindness and warmth all night. He deserved it, and more, and Kamui wanted to be the one to give it to him. Pale hands caress the sides of his face as Kamui leans in for a kiss, Asra's hands tightening around his shirt to keep him held close. It's easy to relax into the kiss, so when a hand wraps around the bulge in his pants, he's startled into letting out an indignified yelp. They break apart audibly, with Asra grinning a self-satisfied grin as he languidly strokes Kamui's erection.

"Did you think I didn't notice...?" Asra purrs. With a twist of his palm over the tip, he removes his hand, pressing it into Kamui's chest to shove him onto his back. With the notable difference in strength it's almost frighteningly easy for Asra to do. It has Kamui's heart pounding, but it also makes him even harder, somehow. The magician quickly slips out of his pants, leaving him nude apart from his jewelry, and straddles Kamui's thighs.

Swallowing in an attempt to fix his dry mouth, Kamui says, "I think I'm overdressed."

With a low chuckle, Asra waves his hand, not unlike the conductor of an orchestra, and Kamui's sash removes itself, floating gently to rest on a nearby trunk. The rest is done mostly by hand; Kamui's never been so eager to get out of his jacket before, while Asra tugs off his boots and pants, the laces and buttons coming undone similarly to the sash. Kamui goes to pull the fringed scarf off his body when Asra reaches out to still his hand.

"Keep it on," he says, eyes clouded with lust as he leans back, appreciating the sight of Kamui in nothing but Asra's shirt and scarf.

Biting his lip, Kamui leans back, lightly tugging one side of the shirt off his shoulders. "This is a fetish, isn't it," he quietly teases, nearly mumbling with how not-at-all confident he feels, making him sound meek. The kinds of looks Asra gave him back in Nopal were just preludes to this, he can tell.

Asra kneels between his thighs, soft hands parting his legs a bit wider, embarrassing him with how on-display it put him. A hand wraps around the base of his dick, unbelievably soft and a bit slick. When had he...? The hand strokes him base to tip, a finger pressing down over the head as if he thought he could press inside if he really tried. His touch is gentle and nowhere near enough and it's all completely on purpose, based on the way Asra smiles up at him, daring him to say something about it.

Did he want that? Did he want to hear Kamui beg? Or did he want to be bossed around? How would he know which one it was?

That train of thought gets abruptly halted as Asra's tongue swipes across the tip of his dick, lapping up precum, his hand wrapped around the base. This is nowhere near as slow, the head of his dick slipping past Asra's soft, slightly damp lips, sending a shiver down his back. Asra licks and sucks at the head with enthusiasm, his free hand placed over Kamui's pelvis, keeping him from thrusting into his mouth. He pulls away, establishing eye contact before dragging his mouth up the side, tongue gliding up to the head, where he lightly nibbles before taking Kamui back into his mouth. Kamui makes a sound, somewhere between a yelp and a groan, slapping a hand over his mouth. Despite the embarrassment, he looks back down, weirdly enthralled by the sight of Asra with his cock in his mouth.

And the magician was still looking right back up at him, mischief dancing in his eyes. If his mouth wasn't full he'd be smirking, Kamui was sure of it.

"Ohhh, you're devious," Kamui groans, his voice cutting off before he could say anything else as Asra takes him in deeper. If not for the hand keeping him held down, he wasn't so sure he'd be able to control himself.

It takes significantly less time before he feels himself getting close, and he reaches down to tug on Asra's hair, rasping out a warning, but Asra ignores him. Swallows him down as far as he can manage comfortably, dick throbbing against his tongue. Violet eyes meet red, a smug, knowing look in his eyes. It's what ends up sending Kamui over the edge, has him cumming inside Asra's mouth as the magician swallows around him.

Trembling, Kamui falls flat on his back, elbows slipping out from under him. Asra pulls himself off Kamui's dick, tongue brushing over the head and causing Kamui to squirm. Licking his lips, Asra joins Kamui up by the pillows, peppering kisses along his neck and tangling their legs as Kamui comes back down from his orgasm induced high. A tawny hand brushes through his mussed up hair, combing gently through tangles.

"Kamui..." Asra starts, trailing off as his eyes roam over his apprentice's bare, sweat-slick form appreciatively. His hand trails down from Kamui's snowy hair to his collar, smoothing out over his chest, feeling the sporadic rhythm of his heart. Around the time that it starts to even out is when Kamui raises up, removing the scarf from his body before rolling onto his side, pulling Asra up against him. Hands brush his waist as Asra unbuttons his shirt, easing it down off Kamui's shoulders. It's tossed somewhere behind him.

For awhile they just lie there in each other's arms, appreciating the silence, the stillness. If they could just do this forever, instead of dealing with... _everything_ , that would be pretty ideal. For awhile Kamui had wanted excitement, craved it, even, but right now he felt none of that. Was this the effect of Asra's influence?

Maybe it was just the effect of a really good orgasm. And walking on foot for miles, up and down a mountain, in the dirt. He wanted to sleep.

Which just ends up reminding him of what they'd gone through earlier—wandering through the woods, entering into The Magician's realm, and... everything that came after that. His face warms just thinking about it, only to pale as he remembers the look on Asra's face after they'd sat back down. The uncertainty and fear of betrayal it shot through him like an arrow lodged into his chest.

Warm fingers comb through Kamui's hair, grooming him. "Hey, Asra?" he asks. He receives a soft hum of acknowledgement in response. "In The Magician's realm... you were the second one I kissed, right?"

He expects to feel Asra's hands still, for there to be a heavy blanket of tension falling over them, smothering him. But none of that happens. Instead, Asra softly replies, "Is this really bothering you?"

"Yes," comes Kamui's immediate reply. "A lot, actually."

Asra hums, and Kamui can't help but feel like this doesn't matter to Asra nearly as much. That, or he's trying to hide it, and doing a really good job. "What makes you think I was the second one?"

Kamui readjusts his head, pressing his ear over Asra's heart. It pulses once, a steady beat against his eardrum, but only once, before there's a substantial pause. "Your heart beats differently than theirs did," Kamui says. Only now does he get the expected reaction from before, and he isn't sure why it was delayed until now, rather than indefinitely.

"I realized it a few days ago, but I was so tired, I forgot all about it," Kamui continues. "It sounds like mine. One beat at a time. That's not normal, though, is it?" _Julian's was different_ , he thinks, but keeps that thought to himself. Or, rather, far away from himself, not wanting his mind to drift off in that direction.

Asra's movements are stilted, now, but he continues combing through Kamui's hair as if nothing was wrong. "You're very perceptive," he murmurs. Before Kamui can respond to that in any way, he adds, "Was that the only reason?"

"No," Kamui answers. "It—or, well, _I_ felt different. It was easier with you. I don't know why, you both felt the same. It was really convincing. But even before I felt their heart beating, it seemed off, like we were meeting for the first time." He swallows thickly. "The second one was you, though, right?"

Asra exhales in amusement. "It's going to torture you until you know the answer, isn't it?"

"For the rest of my life, probably," Kamui responds, mostly joking.

"Hmm, we can't have that, can we?" Tilting his head downwards, Asra presses his lips against the top of Kamui's head. The apprentice leans his head back, and Asra does it again, to his forehead this time. "Would it please you to know that it was me?"

"Was it?" Kamui eagerly asks, his eyes lighting up hopefully.

"...Maybe it was," Asra vaguely responds, grinning smugly as he settles his head back in against the pillow. He hears Kamui huff as he adds, "Or maybe you just really like kissing foxes."

Kamui groans. "Well, maybe I'll just go kiss The Magician instead, since they're so much better at it."

All of Asra's limbs tighten around his body, holding him in place. "You'll have to escape first," he says, devious.

"Who said anything about _moving_?" Lowering his head, he closes his eyes tight. "I'll kiss them in my dreams. How are you gonna stop that?"

Asra flips Kamui over onto his back, pinning him to the bed. "I'll just have to keep you awake, then," he purrs, diving in to nip at the skin below Kamui's jaw. He finds himself giggling, arms wrapping around Asra's shoulders as the magician bites and sucks at his neck. As if the amount of marks he already had weren't enough.

Teeth sink lightly into his throat, drawing a shuddering gasp. "It's almost like you want everyone to see," Kamui says, threading his fingers into Asra's soft curls. "You're not going to heal any of them, are you?"

He can feel the vibration of a hum against his throat, a warm tongue gliding up over the newest addition to the hickies all over his neck. "Now, why would I do that? You look lovely like this."

The sound of Asra's voice sends a shudder down his spine, centering directly in the least innocent part of him. He lets out an amused puff of air. "If you keep this up, we're never going to get any sleep."

"Mmm, I forgot. My sweet, delicate little prince needs his beauty sleep," Asra teases. Kamui wants to huff, to complain, but. Something about the endearment has his face heating up, and judging by Asra's smirk, he's noticed. "Oh? Do you like being called a 'prince'?"

" _No_ ," Kamui emphatically denies, averting his eyes, as Asra laughs. "My...—You said _my_ prince," he stammers, incredibly embarrassed suddenly. It sounds so stupid when he says it out loud. Even stupider with 'prince' attached to it. No matter what Asra said, he _didn't_ want to be called a prince.

There's a knowing, yet tender look in Asra's eyes. " _My_ Kamui," he says, voice low. Inhaling sharply, Kamui watches as Asra lifts one of his hands, pressing a kiss to the back, violet eyes falling closed.

When he opens them, there's a completely different look hidden behind those violet irises, something darker. " _Mine_ ," he breathes, teeth scraping against Kamui's skin as he trails kisses farther up his arm. His breath catches in his throat.

"O-Ohhhh," he whimpers, his skin overly warm and tingling everywhere Asra touches him, the feel of his lips lingering. Asra seems to take this as encouragement, leaning in to seal their lips together, Kamui's hand held against his chest. Legs wrap around Asra's lower half as Kamui enthusiastically reciprocates, groaning as teeth catch on his lower lip. He parts them eagerly, Asra's tongue scraping against his. Fingers curl around his hair just hard enough to hurt, their bodies pressed flush against each other. It feels possessive somehow, and it appeals so much that Kamui can feel his entire body burning up. Without thinking he grinds his hips into Asra's, the magician's breath catching.

Asra pulls away almost immediately, and for a split-second Kamui's afraid he messed up, until he sees the way Asra smirks, luridly licking his lips. One of his hands move to press down on Kamui's lower body, keeping him pinned to the bed.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Kamui," Asra says. There's something very deep and intimidating about his voice that has Kamui desperate to roll his hips into something, _anything_.

"How can I not, when you're acting like this?" Kamui asks, breathless. His heart is pounding, the blood rushing in his ears. "Do you know how hot you are? You give me that look and you say these things and I can feel my resolve crumbling into dust."

Asra chuckles lowly, leaning in to press his lips against the side of Kamui's jaw, trailing up to his ear, the sound causing him to shudder. "Do you know what I want, right now?" Asra asks, speaking directly into Kamui's ear. Gasping, he attempts to move his hips, barely budging half an inch with Asra's hand pressing down on him.

"Wh-What?"

Asra leans in even closer, his nose brushing up against Kamui's neck. "Sleep," he says.

Kamui's whole body sags. "I hate you so much, sometimes," he groans. Asra chuckles, rolling onto his side to lay beside his apprentice.

"I seem to recall you saying you wanted to sleep forever," Asra reminds him. "Does your dick give you other ideas?"

Leaning up on his arm, Kamui smirks down at Asra. "Oh, yes," he purrs. "Lots of them."

"Mmm, interesting," Asra says, as he rolls over, facing away from Kamui, and pulls the blankets up out from under him. Kamui makes a face, before climbing under the covers with Asra, clinging to his back.

Faust appears sliding up over the edge of the bed, curling up on the pillow between their heads. " _Sleep_!" she chirps.

"Good night, Faust," Kamui says, making a kissy face in her general direction. She headbutts him in response.

When he closes his eyes, it almost amazes him how badly it burns. His joints ache; as exciting and adventurous as travelling had been, he was ready for everything to stop for awhile.

Until tomorrow, that is. The palace, ironically, wasn't going to pamper him. Probably.

He hums. "Asra?"

There almost isn't a response, leading Kamui to think he's waited too long, and Asra has already passed out. The magician did tend to fall asleep alarmingly fast. But right before he's about to give up, he hears, "Mmm?"

"Can you—Can you hold me?"

Silence ensues, with Asra remaining perfectly still, breaths measured. For a moment Kamui wonders if he'd just imagined Asra's response, but he does eventually turn, his eyes remaining closed as he wraps his arms around Kamui's torso. Pleased, Kamui snuggles in, nuzzling Asra's neck, the gold choker smooth and cool against his cheek.

 

  
They're awoken early the next morning to a pounding knock on the front door to the shop. Kamui jolts to awareness with an exaggerated groan of displeasure, Asra's limbs coiled around him like _he_ was the snake, and not his familiar. There's a sleepy sound that comes out of him somewhat resembling "Just ignore it", only for a voice to carry up the stairs from outside the front door.

"Kamui, are you home? It's Portia, we _really_ need to talk!"

The aforementioned magician rises with a mild sense of urgency, wobbling only slightly and squinting against the painfully bright sunlight shining in through the bedroom window. "Shit, Portia."

"Can she...?" Asra murmurs, allowing Kamui to assume the end of his sentence for him.

"Probably not." He leans in to pepper kisses across Asra's forehead, enough that the magician starts to smile, a soft chuckle escaping him. "I'll go check it out."

"Mmm," Asra responds, a bit of a goofy smile on his face as he curls back up into bed.

Quickly relocating his clothing, Kamui pulls on the bare necessities before padding downstairs barefoot. He adjusts his hair and clothes on the way down, hoping he doesn't look like _too_ much of a mess. He rubs his hands over his tired eyes in an attempt to wake up faster. With a drowsy sigh, he opens the door.

Once Portia catches sight of him, she sighs, relieved. "Oh, good, you're home. I wasn't sure if you were back yet."

"Just got back last night, actually," Kamui says, doing his best attempt at a charming smile. Portia nods.

"Good timing then, huh? Oh, but you look tired. I didn't wake you up, did I?" Portia asks, to which Kamui dismissively waves a hand in front of his face.

"Don't worry about it," he says. "Can't sleep in all day, right?" His easy and casual response prompts a small laugh from Portia.

"Right. Well, I was just wondering... can I come in?"

He steps aside, allowing Portia into the shop. Her eyes light up at the various sights, several different things attracting her curiosity all at once. "Whoa, is this what your shop looks like? Look at this place!"

She flits about the room, gazing wondrously at and almost-touching several items, including a crystal ball and a set of dried herbs hung along the wall. It's amusing, bringing a small smile to Kamui's face.

"Can I offer you some tea?" Kamui asks, stepping closer to the curious handmaiden and leaning forward into her field of view. Her eyes widen a bit, and she appears almost guilty, like she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't. "I usually make some around now, anyway."

"Oh, no, that's okay. I wouldn't want to impose," Portia politely declines, coming back into herself. She presses her hands together, gazing off to one side as she gathers her thoughts. "Milady wanted me to come check up on you, uh, see how you're doing with your training. It's been a few days, so she's getting a bit concerned."

Kamui thinks back to Nopal, to sitting under the aloe tree with Asra. The words Faust had shared with him, that he had then shared with Kamui.

" _Nadia_ was?" Kamui asks with a lopsided grin, sarcastic. Not believing Portia's words for even a second. Portia looks a touch confused by his tone, but it doesn't seem to click in her mind properly.

"She's worried about the investigation," Portia continues. "You know, about finding Ily— _Julian_."

"Your brother?" Kamui boldly asks, leaning against the counter and observing her reaction.

"My—How did you know that?" Portia's face pales, cobalt eyes wide with shock. Kamui's smile widens, tilting his head to one side in a half-nod.

"I didn't," he deadpans.

Portia groans. "Of course. And I've just given it away, haven't I?"

"Mhm," Kamui smugly agrees.

"Right. Well, so long as we're being candid. I need your help."

Kamui exhales slowly, his lips quirking into a smile. _There it is._ "Asra and I kind of had plans for today, but if it's nothing too time consuming..."

"It's about Ilya," Portia blurts out. The mere mention of his name in such a context sends a cold, hollow feeling through Kamui's chest. He'd tried not to think about it, about _him_ , left behind while he ran off into the woods with Asra. Tried not to think about him getting caught, about him clapped in irons in a cold, dirty dungeon somewhere, or _worse_. All because Kamui wasn't there to stop it.

"Did something happen to him?" Kamui asks. The apparent, uncontrolled concern in his voice seems to soothe her, some of the tension leaving her posture. Then, she sags, gritting her teeth and sighing through her nostrils.

"He's sure acting like the world is ending," Portia groans. Immediately Kamui finds himself relaxing; he hadn't been caught yet. "Listen, I can't claim to understand what your relationship is with him. But I haven't been able to get through to him, and, the thing is."

She pauses, looking around the shop as if she expects someone to be listening in. Which, actually, someone might be. However, she doesn't seem to spot anyone, turning back to Kamui looking reassured.

"How do I say this? He literally won't shut up about you," Portia says, annoyed.

_Oh._

For some reason, the information makes his heart flutter. Fills the empty space in his chest with something—hopeful. Happy. Giddy, even.

"I just figured, if I can't get through to him, you must be able to," Portia continues. "I'm pretty sure I know where he is. If you're interested in talking to him, that is."

"Yes," Kamui blurts out, a little stunned by his own answer, the willingness where once he had been more willing to climb back into bed with—

...With _Asra._ The person he'd been holding and kissing for the past few days, among significantly more intimate things.

_You never think, do you?_

Portia looks thrilled by his response, either not noticing his eagerness, or being comforted by it. "Oh, thank goodness. I don't think I can deal with him anymore."

"Yeah, just—give me some time," Kamui says. "Early morning, and all that. Gotta get cleaned up, eat breakfast, you know. You can stay down here in the shop if you want, make yourself comfortable."

Not suspecting a thing, or so it seemed, Portia nods with a small smile, glancing around the room for the nearest seat. "Well, if you insist," she says, something particularly cat-like about her expression.

Kamui heads for the stairs, resting his eyes on the way up; he knew this place like the back of his hand, there was no risk in wandering blind for a little while. Stumbling a bit on his way into the bedroom, he finds Asra curled up with one arm under his pillow, looking up at where Faust is resting nearby.

"Are you talking about me?" Kamui asks, by way of announcing his presence. Turning, Asra gives him a sleepy, but affectionate smile, which simultaneously warms and hurts Kamui's heart.

"Maybe," Asra says, his voice thick with sleep. "Come back to bed."

"I can't. Portia needs me for something." Glancing around the room, he eventually finds his scarf, draping it over his arm. At the same time, Asra raises up, stretching out his limbs.

"We were headed for the palace anyway," Asra notes.

"That's not where we're going." After locating his entire outfit, Kamui piles the clothing into his arms, too tired to plan something else to wear. He turns towards the door. "She wants my help with her brother," he adds, purposefully avoiding using the man's actual name. It only works to keep the nonplussed look off Asra's face for two seconds at best.

"Ilya can help himself."

"Have you met him? He super cannot," Kamui shoots back.

"He left you," Asra continues, before Kamui could get a chance to say anything else. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I don't think I've ever had a good idea in my life," Kamui says, aiming for lighthearted and humorous but failing entirely as Asra doesn't react. Sighing, he says, "Listen, I know this seems strange, but I do still care about him. I'm not giving up on him just because we're not together anymore."

"I just don't want you getting caught up in his mess," Asra says.

"Well, that's my decision to make, isn't it?" Kamui retorts, raising a brow. "I can take care of myself. Telling me it's too dangerous or that you just want to protect me—you _both_ do that. And I'm over it."

"We both...?" Trailing off, Asra's eyes widen, before looking away in shame. "I didn't realize... I'm sorry, Kamui. I never wanted to control your actions."

He trails off with a sigh, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Things are different now. You don't need me or anyone else around to protect you. You're strong, Kamui. Stronger than me, even." His words have Kamui's chest swelling with pride, bringing a hint of a blush to his face to match the one on Asra's. "I think... maybe Ilya could use someone like you."

Ruby eyes widen, stunned to hear Asra say that. "Really? You mean that?"

There's some reluctance, but still Asra manages a smile, meeting Kamui's eye. "You have an incredible effect on people. You had quite the effect on me," he says, his face coloring. Kamui can't help but laugh in response, setting his clothing aside on a nearby table to stride up to the magician, caressing his face.

"You're so cute, Asra," Kamui coos, just taking a moment to watch Asra's expressions change. Once he's had his fill, he draws him in for a kiss. The magician holds onto his arms with a certain firmness that has Kamui deepening the kiss, knowing what he was after. He manages to pull himself away before too long, saying, "Thank you, Asra. Really."

"Just be careful," Asra says, receiving a reassuring kiss to the side of his face.

"I need to get cleaned up. I'll see you at the palace later, okay?"

Asra exhales a laugh, lips quirking into a smile. "Skipping breakfast, are you?"

With a huff, Kamui puffs out his cheeks. "If you're so bothered, cook something for me."

Chuckling, Asra pulls him in for another kiss, much more chaste than before. "As you wish, my prince," he says, soft and affectionate but teasing all the same. Kamui can't help the way his face warms at the endearment, turning away to hide his reaction.

While Asra bustles about the kitchen, Kamui ducks into the bathroom, scrubbing at his body to cleanse himself of all the dirt. There were leaves in his hair, and he couldn't keep from shuddering in disgust. As fun as it could be to go adventuring, he really wasn't thrilled about the kinds of filth he found on his body afterwards.

He joins Asra in the kitchen, still combing through his hair with his fingers. "Do I look okay?" he asks, seeking reassurance that he didn't still look like he'd slept in the woods.

"You look _fine_ , Kamui," Asra says, chuckling a bit at his apprentice's constant grooming. In response, he pouts.

"Just 'fine'? I'm a little offended," he jokes.

"Dazzling," Asra corrects, with a sly smile. "Stunning. Captivating. Positively divine. You light up the room with your beauty. Good?"

The praise draws a pleased sigh from Kamui's lips. "You spoil me."

After making tea for the two of them, Kamui sits down to eat. With Portia still waiting downstairs, Kamui tries not to take too long; it's not as easy as it sounds, considering Asra is more worried about his dietary habits than he is. Asra uses every trick in the book to get him to eat as much as possible; mostly by hand-feeding it to him. He could never resist such a flirty maneuver.

Once he's dressed and ready, he heads for the stairs, blowing a kiss towards Asra, who stands in the kitchen doorway. He finds Portia musing over the shop's wares, a magic tome in her hands that she's attempting to make sense of. Kamui almost expects to see her turning it upside-down, as if that would help.

"Hey, Portia," Kamui says, getting the handmaiden's attention. She starts, quickly putting the book back where she found it, as if she wasn't allowed to touch it. "Sorry if I kept you waiting. I'm a bit slow to rise..."

Blessedly, Portia doesn't seem annoyed or even questioning, accepting his excuse with ease. "Right, of course. I showed up on such short notice, anyway, I'm sure you had a million more important things to do," she says.

"Nonsense. Julian's important to me, Portia," Kamui says, catching her a little off guard with the severity of his tone. She quickly replaces her look of surprise with a warm smile.

"That's a relief. I'm glad you're here looking out for him, Kamui. Let's get going, then, shall we?" Kamui smiles in response, giving her a single nod of assent, and the two step outside the shop.

 

  
Their destination turns out to be one Kamui's relatively familiar with—the Rowdy Raven. The same tavern he'd been to with Julian more than once before. Although, both of those times had been much later in the day.

The interior of the tavern is quiet, patrons milling about, generally minding their own business. It's currently similar in civility to a restaurant; Kamui frowns. Where were the rowdy sailors, the man drunkenly crying on the bar, where were all the bar fights? No one was actively getting stabbed? What was this, a children's milk bar?

He raises a brow at Portia. "He's here, trust me," she says. "I know my brother. He'd definitely hang at a place called The Rowdy Raven."

"Before noon?"

Portia exhales a long suffering sigh. It's all the answer he needs.

He turns to look over the room again, a flash of auburn catching his eye. That's when he sees him—Julian, slumped over a table, hair mussed up with a drink in front of him, alongside several empty glasses.

Sighing, Kamui says, "This is even sadder than I thought."

"Yeah, well, it's been like this for a couple days," Portia says, following Kamui's gaze over to her brother with a flat look of annoyance. "You're only having to deal with it now."

_Kinda makes my reaction seem tame._

"Listen, when he gets like this, what he really needs is a good boot to the ass," Portia says.

"I can provide the boot," Kamui says. He means it humorously, but he doesn't really feel it, keeping his expression neutral. Which, incidentally, has the consequence of making him look vaguely annoyed. "I'll talk to him," he adds, looking at Portia specifically as he says it. She throws up her hands in submission.

"By all means. I'm a bit fed up at this point," she says. Eyes lidded, her lip curls in annoyance as she says, "It's all doom and gloom with him. It's always, ' _Ohhhh, I'm so dangerous and tragic, all I do is hurt people'_ , and ' _I was born unlovable and evil, run for the hills_ '."

Kamui chuckles mirthlessly. "Yeah, that sounds about right," he says. "Anyway, I'm gonna go introduce Julian to the consequences of his actions." That draws a bit of a laugh from the tiny handmaiden.

Leaving Portia behind near the entrance, Kamui strides across the room, buzzing with nervous energy; what was he going to say? What would Julian say? What if Julian didn't want to see him—what if he turned him away? He hadn't planned for this at all.

He wings it.

Slamming a hand on the table in front of Julian hard enough to jostle several glasses, he says, voice hard, " _Julian._ "

The man in question jolts to awareness, his pallid face covered in a dusty pink flush—not surprising, to see that he was drunk. He looked a mess, his eyepatch slightly askew and his eye makeup smeared from where he'd been lying his face on his hands.

"K—Kamui!" Julian starts, looking like he'd been caught doing something illegal, his eye wide with panic. "You, uhhhh—You're here. In the Raven. In front of me." He brushes some of the hair out his eye. "What, uh. What are you doing here?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Kamui snaps, seeing Julian flinch slightly at the sound of his voice. He averts his cloudy gaze, as if it would make Kamui disappear, and by extention, the horrible tension in the air.

"That's, uh—" Julian stutters, his eloquence slipping. "Just—enjoying a nice glass of Salty Bitters." He gestures to the half-empty stein in front of him with a forced playfulness about him. Kamui can see his hands tremble. "Bartholomew makes a grand one."

Julian goes to open his mouth to say something else, but cuts himself off at seeing Kamui lift the glass off the table, depositing it on a different table full of patrons. "On the house," he mutters to them, turning back to Julian with a flat look. He leans both hands on the table, looming. "You're going to get yourself caught, you moron."

"C-Caught? _Me_? Caught?" Julian laughs, but it's bitter sounding, quickly devolving into flat out misery, one of his hands pressed against his face, shielding his eye. "Mmm, good. I'd deserve it."

"That's a load of shit, Julian," Kamui snaps. It doesn't have quite the effect he'd hoped it would; Julian sighs miserably, covering his one visible eye behind his hand.

"Why are you even bothering with me? You should hate me," he says, "And, you—you've already moved on without me. I mean, of course, why wouldn't you? I'm not worth thinking about. This is— _I'm_ —beneath you, you deserve so much better than me..."

Kamui's fingers curl. "What are you talking about?"

"Your neck," Julian says, without looking. Kamui freezes, reaching up to brush two fingers against his neck. There were at least two visible marks over the top of his scarf. "I—I sure don't remember leaving those, anyway." He laughs, bitter and hollow.

Leaning over the table, he places his head in hands. "Of course, I should have known," he continues. "What we had—it didn't matter. What's a few days, anyway? How ridiculous of me for thinking that we might have had something real..."

Guilt stabs at Kamui's chest like a knife, twisting through his heart. Of course, of course—of course he would think that, why wouldn't he?

He grits his teeth. "Julian, stop. It's not like that."

Julian chuckles dryly, the sound littered with so much heartbreak that Kamui feels like maybe he deserves to drown in the nearest river.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Julian says. "I'm the one who ruined everything we could have had, the one good thing I had going for me. Just like I do with everything—I _ruin_ it."

He throws out a hand, gesturing theatrically, incidentally knocking an empty bottle off the table, where it shatters on the wood floor. " _Ohhh_ ," he groans, hiding his face in both hands. He nearly sounds on the verge of tears, be it from frustration or just—everything, in general.

With a wave of his hand, Kamui gathers the glass into a neat pile, moving it back onto the table.

"You know, Portia told me you would be here," he says. "She came to me this morning, seeking my help, because you were out here doing ruinous shit like _this_. Getting drunk in public, where a guard could see you and have you hanged. Do you even care? Are you giving up, just like that? For, what, a pity party?"

"What's the _point_?" Julian asks, throwing out his hand, fingers splayed. "Just—Just leave me. The two of you, you should just give up. I'm a lost cause."

" _Enough_ already," Kamui snaps, harsh. "You can't just go on and on about how tragic you are and expect me to walk away again. If you want me to leave, _make me_. Because I'm not going anywhere otherwise."

"Stubborn, aren't you." Julian sighs, leaning on his hand again. "There's nothing I can say anymore, is there?"

"Not a fucking thing," Kamui says, leaning forward to put himself at eye-level with Julian. The man's single visible eye widens, lips pressed tightly together as he angles back slightly. " _Get up_ , Julian."

He watches dispassionately as Julian rises from the table fast enough to knock over several more glasses, which Kamui quickly magics out of the way of the table edge. Remaining stoic, he glances quickly over the doctor's frame, just to watch him squirm a bit under all the scrutiny.

"Grab your jacket and let's go, okay? I'll deal with the glass," he says dryly, raising back up.

"No, no, you shouldn't have to..."

"I'm not asking."

Julian flinches slightly, his face turning redder than it already was, for a reason that had nothing to do with the drink. "O-Oh," he mumbles.

Reaching for the glass shards, Kamui focuses his magic, reforming the stein with a raise of his hand. Truth be told, he hadn't had to do something like this in nearly a year, but he was lucky enough to have it turn out right.

With a small sigh he turns back around, seeing Julian staring at the glass like he'd just witnessed a divine miracle. His amazement does something to boost Kamui's ego, and he smiles on his way back to Portia, hearing the click of Julian's heels rushing to keep up with him.

Once by the entrance, Portia looks up at the two men with wide eyes, shocked to see Julian upright, before turning to Kamui with a surprised, yet impressed expression. "Wow. That's a boot to the ass if I've ever seen one," Portia says. Eyes lidded, she looks up at Julian with irritation in her cloudy irises. "Are you over your drama now, Ilya?"

With a noticeable edge of trepidation, Julian forces a smile. "Am I ever?"

"No, I suppose not," she sighs. It doesn't take long after that for her to move on, expression hardening. "Ilya, we need to get you out of the city."

Red eyes snap over in her direction, surprised and a touch alarmed. However, to Kamui's immediate relief, her statement has Julian protesting. "What? No, I'm not going anywhere. I came to Vesuvia seeking answers, and I'm not leaving until I get them."

Portia audibly groans in a way Kamui imagines is typical amongst bickering siblings. "And how do you intend to do that, exactly?"

"As I recall, you can't go more than three steps without a guard breathing down your neck," Kamui comments.

"I," Julian starts, puffing out his chest with a rakish grin and grandiose tone of voice, "Have no plan at all whatsoever."

The look on Portia's face is cold enough to freeze Julian solid.

"So, you're just going to get drunk in public instead, then," Kamui deadpans, eyes hooded in irritation. "Look, I was heading to the palace after this, anyway. We'll just smuggle you in with us."

"Oh yeah? Are you going to roll me in in a barrel? Stuff me inside your luggage?" Julian asks, chuckling at the absurdity of the concept. With a grin, he wiggles his fingers. "Or, are you going to, magic me invisible?"

"Should magic your mouth shut, too," Portia deadpans, sticking out her tongue when Julian turns to send her a mild look.

"I know a spell," Kamui says. Granted, he'd never used the spell, but he'd seen Asra use it plenty of times before. It looked easy enough. "We just need to get him in and out. Portia, do you know anywhere in the palace we could hide him afterwards?"

"I have a cottage, towards the edge of the palace grounds," Portia says. "No one ever ventures out there, he'll be completely inconspicuous."

"You have a _cottage_?" Julian questions. "In the palace??"

Kamui spares him a glance before completely ignoring him.

"I don't suppose you know any good ways to sober someone up really fast?" Kamui asks flatly, looking to Portia for advice. She shrugs.

"Our grandmother might know something," she muses.

"Your...?" He trails off, right as a metaphorical light goes off in his head. "Oh, Mazelinka? Does she have a potion for that?"

Julian pipes up, "She doesn't make _potions_ , they're—"

"She probably does, yeah," Portia interrupts. She grins. "You really get around, huh? Looks like you've met the whole family."

Kamui's eyes widen. The _whole_ family? Really?

"Julian introduced us," he says. Apparently Mazelinka hadn't said anything to Portia about having seen the two men making out in her spare bedroom. Thank god for that. "Do you think she'd be willing to help?"

"Can't you just," Julian starts, gesturing so vaguely that neither Kamui nor Portia have any idea what he's getting at. " _Magic_ me sober? Like... poof! And it's all out of my system."

"Good lord," Portia groans.

"I can't, but I can turn your skin purple," Kamui says.

Julian's eye widens, as he asks, "Can you??"

"No."

Portia snickers, Julian shooting her a flustered look. " _What_?" he asks, defensive.

Again ignoring him, Kamui says, "I'll take him home," while giving Portia a reassuring smile. "We'll meet you at the palace later."

At her nod of assent, the three part ways. Julian's first step after Portia's departure is unsteady enough to nearly topple him over, and Kamui reflexively reaches out to steady him.

"Sorry," Julian says, embarrassed. He attempts to steady himself, but just sways again; Kamui sighs, resigning himself to wrapping an arm around Julian's waist, his shoulders too high up to comfortably reach. In response, Julian drapes an arm across Kamui's shoulders, leaning into him.

"I've never dealt with a drunk person before, so you're going to have to forgive me if I've no clue what I'm doing," Kamui says, guiding Julian to walk in a straight line. It reminds him a lot of when he was on the verge of dying from blood loss. The man's long legs were practically useless.

Julian flashes a winning smile, stumbling over his feet a little bit. Even drunk, the look still has an effect on Kamui, causing his heart to race a bit. "Your friends aren't too adventurous, then?"

"Asra doesn't drink," Kamui says. He doesn't want to elaborate, to really stress the fact that his list of friends ends there. He wasn't sure if he could call Portia or Nadia his friends. They were too new to him, too distant.

"No, he doesn't, does he," Julian muses. Kamui can't help but notice that he's not watching where he's walking at all. "He was more... oh, there was this tea he used to love..."

"Smoked tea?" Kamui suggests.

Julian snaps his fingers, "Yes, that's the one. I was never much of a tea drinker, but I tried it once, for him, you see, and, well..." He trails off, his eye glazing over. A few moments pass before he asks, "Does he still drink it?"

"All the time," Kamui says, peering curiously up at Julian. This was the first time he'd ever heard the man speaking so casually about Asra. It made him immensely curious.

Nodding for a few seconds longer than necessary, Julian goes silent, staring out at the scenery. Kamui wonders what he's thinking about.

"Does he—Well," he starts, his teeth tugging on his lower lip before continuing. "Is he... is he happy? I mean, is he doing alright?"

The question throws Kamui off, for a lot of reasons. Sober, Julian spoke about him like he was some evil witch out to get him. Aside from that... what was Kamui supposed to say? What did Julian want to hear?

"I think so," Kamui says. "Why?"

"Nothing, I just..." Julian sighs. "One of us should be, I think."

... _Oh_.

With no tact at all, Kamui blurts out, "Do you still like him?" Julian seemed incredibly honest right now, if a little gloomy, and Kamui would be lying if he said he wasn't immensely interested. He just hoped it didn't come across as prying, that it didn't cross any lines.

Julian doesn't even question it; no ' _how would you know about that_ ', nothing. Almost like he forgot who he was talking to. He just says, "I shouldn't, but... I don't know. Isn't that _sad_? He chewed me up and tossed me aside, but if he came back right now and said he wanted me, I don't think I could tell him no." He chuckles darkly. "That's pathetic, isn't it?"

The response ignites some type of spark in Kamui's chest. He goes to say something else, only for Julian to suddenly step away. Looking up, Kamui's surprised to find Mazelinka's house right in front of them. As if in a trance, Julian makes his way over to the window on automatic, with Kamui scurrying to catch up to him, worried for the kinds of things he would break on his way in, both on the counters and in his own body. Sure, it would heal, but it wouldn't be fun.

Well. With Julian, that might be debatable.

But he's already on his way in, so all Kamui can do is cast a shield over the counter, to prevent any glass from shattering or plants from getting smashed. It has the side effect of making Julian slip on it, causing him to crash onto the floor in a gangly mess of limbs and black leather.

"Ah! Sorry!" Kamui calls, hearing naught but a pained groan and an annoyed sigh, followed up by the sound of Mazelinka scolding Julian.

"Are you drunk? This early?" comes the loud sound of Mazelinka's voice. Kamui couldn't be sure what Julian's parents had been like, but he clearly took after whichever one was born from Mazelinka. Both of them were well-acquainted with having their voices carry long distances.

"Sorry, sorry," Julian slurs. "You, uh, you look lovely today, by the—"

"Oh, shut up and let your boyfriend into the house."

Heat rises to Kamui's face. Oh, no. She _would_ think that, wouldn't she? After what she saw the last time he was here, of course she'd think that.

There's no attempt to refute the title from Julian, as if it hadn't even phased him. Not long afterwards, the front door opens, Julian stood on the other side, slouched over so his head was visible beneath the door frame.

"Well, come on in, then," he says, smiling wide. It was a little goofy looking. Kamui finds himself smiling in return, stifling a laugh lest Julian decide to ask about it.

He steps inside, with Julian closing the door behind him. The home is just as he remembered it, with a scent of something like pine needles and dirt wafting through the air. He finds Mazelinka standing before the hearth, busy stirring some sort of concoction in her cauldron. If he were more knowledgeable, he might be able to guess what it was based on scent alone.

Julian stumbles over to stand beside her, pouring on the charm where once there had been nothing but gloom. He barely gets three words out before she waves her spoon at him, "Take a seat. You're going to trip and break something."

"Right. Well, you're the—"

" _Sit_ ," she insists, to which Julian obediently slinks away to take a seat at the dining table. On the way, he glances over at Kamui, who takes it as a request for him to join Julian at the table, so he does. He takes the seat immediately to Julian's right.

Leaning forward on his elbows, head turned away, Julian cards a hand through his hair, the auburn strands messier than usual. For no reason in particular—perhaps because there was nothing more interesting to look at—Kamui finds himself staring, feeling something tug at his chest.

He isn't sure what to say, not with Mazelinka in the room. Julian doesn't seem to have that problem, however.

"Well," he starts, folding his arms on the table and turning back to face Kamui. "Come here often?"

Kamui snorts. "Just once before, you?"

"He practically lives here," Mazelinka interjects. "At least you didn't break anything on your way in this time. Although, I suspect that was through no fault of your own." She peers over her shoulder at Kamui as she says that.

Julian doesn't quite seem to understand. "Maybe I'm just really lucky today." A smokey iris flickers over to Kamui for a brief second.

"Yeah, yeah."

They sit in silence for a moment, before Mazelinka stops by the table, depositing a glass bottle in front of Julian. All she says is, "Drink," while he inspects the glass. He doesn't do much beyond sniff the contents before chugging it. Kamui catches Mazelinka giving him a look before returning to her pot.

"How's your, uh, soup?" Kamui asks, unable to stop himself from sounding teasing when he says 'soup'. He can feel it, without much effort; the magic contained within the mixture. Idly he wonders if Asra would have been able to recognize the recipe.

Setting the bottle back down on the table like one might a glass of ale, he grins, saying, "Oh, so it's soup now, is it?"

Kamui snickers. "I mean, if that's what helps you sleep at night, then yeah, it's soup." He glances back at Mazelinka to see her rolling her eyes.

"Nothing will help me sleep at night," Julian says. With a bit of a sneer twisting his expression, it's hard to tell whether he's joking or not. With that kind of uncertainty, Kamui finds himself remaining silent, awkwardly toying with a loose thread on his shirt.

Glancing back up at Julian without moving his head, he can see, in clearer detail, just how much of a mess the man looked. It was possible his hair hadn't been brushed anytime recently, his makeup was a mess, his skin an almost sickly pallor. It wasn't like all of it was brand new; he always looked sleep deprived, always had messy hair. It just wasn't this bad, the last time they'd met.

Was that because of their breakup? Or was it just everything, in general, that was getting to him? Maybe this was normal, and Kamui just hadn't seen it yet. There was no way to tell, not without asking someone.

But it was bothering him for more reasons than one, the urge to groom him overwhelming. Without any further thought, he wraps a hand around Julian's bicep, getting his attention right away. The man stiffens under his grasp, a reaction Kamui really shouldn't be surprised by anymore.

Red eyes meet silver, and Julian says, "Is something the matter?"

"You look like something the cat dragged in," Kamui says. Removing his hand, he makes a 'come here' gesture with his hands, saying, "Come on, bend over."

"In front of my own grandmother? Scandalous," Julian quips, wincing as a wooden piece of cutlery is tossed directly at his head from the direction of the kitchen.

"Behave yourself," Mazelinka scolds.

"When am I ever _not_ perfectly well behaved?"

"Uh, all the time?" Kamui suggests. "Do you know the meaning of the word?"

Julian scoffs in mock offense, throwing a hand over his heart. Chuckling at his antics, Kamui waves his hands again, and this time Julian actually leans forward, a satisfied grin on his face. Possessing no shame at all, Kamui grips Julian's chin, turning his head this way and that.

"You don't wear blush, do you? Concealer?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's just the eyeshadow, right? Or do you have eyeliner on—no, yeah, you're wearing eyeliner," Kamui observes. Experimentally he drags the tips of two fingers across Julian's sharp cheekbone, feeling no traces of powder. "Just the eye, then?"

"Uh?" Julian squints, confused.

"Hold still," Kamui lightly scolds, and the man remains perfectly stationary, hardly even breathing as Kamui swipes his thumbs across the corner of Julian's visible eye, a light trickle of magic dusting his skin, clearing away the smear. A couple more precise movements later and the eyeliner looked practically untouched. Everything else seemed fine as it was, so he moved on from there.

With a couple more repetitions of "Hold on" and "Hold still", Kamui plucks a comb from out of his jacket pocket, straightening out Julian's curls. The action felt perfectly normal and platonic to Kamui, who had been doing this sort of thing with Asra for years, but it clearly didn't register that way in Julian's mind. He looked embarrassed, flustered, even. Pink stained his cheeks from more than just the lingering traces of alcohol in his system, his cloudy gaze averted, lip trapped between his teeth.

Maybe it was too much, too quickly, after what they'd gone through; the fight, the breakup, a tense reunion several days later, now this. Some kind of whiplash, to be sure.

He just wanted things to be okay. Easier. Was that so wrong? On top of that, it just felt so easy to touch Julian. Kamui might've attributed that to just being his personality, after all, he had been touchy with Asra from the very beginning. But he hadn't so much as grazed Portia or Nadia, much less held their hand or tried to comb through their hair. He had trouble believing gender had anything to do with it, either.

By the time he deems Julian's hair suitably tamed, whatever Mazelinka had been occupying herself with in the kitchen finishes up and is deposited on the table before the two men. Two glass jars, filled with a golden mixture only partially magical in nature. The majority of it was just regular edibles. Vegetables, mushrooms, spices, and the like.

"Take this with you," she says, "The two of you are both far too skinny." She excuses herself before anyone could argue the fact. Embarrassed, Kamui's face warms.

"Th-Thank you," he croaks, a touch too quiet; he had responded a bit late, the woman in question nearly out of earshot as she headed for one of the doors along the nearby wall, but he'd been too stunned to form words any earlier.

This was a brand new situation—the only times he could remember receiving free food were when the baker gave him and Asra samples of a new recipe, and generally every time he'd meet with Nadia. But the baker knew the both of them, especially Asra, quite well, and Nadia had more money than he'd ever see in his entire life.

Was this okay? Should he pay her back? He might have to ask Asra about etiquette later.

In the end, he carefully deposits the bottle inside his coat pocket, next to the rest of his portable belongings. Beside him, Julian chugs the remainder of what Kamui assumed was a sobering agent, his face a lot less rosy than before. The soup gets stashed inside the pocket of his cape before smoothly rising to his feet, empty glass bottle in hand. His movements are much less clumsy than before as he brings the bottle over to a sink nearby.

The two exit the home not long after, Julian ducking low down to avoid hitting his head on the top of the door frame. Together they make their way as far towards the palace as is safe, Kamui deferring to Julian's lead in order to most efficiently avoid the guards. That, and Kamui was still a bit lost on the layout of this part of the city.

They step inside a dirt alleyway, with Kamui tugging on Julian's arm to lead him farther in, not paying any mind to how tense the touch makes him. He lets go to scoop some of the loose dirt up off the ground.

"Might want to close your eyes," Kamui warns, turning toward Julian with the dirt cupped up near his mouth.

"Is this the part where you turn my skin purple?" Julian jokes, obediently closing his eyes. A cloud of dust sprinkles down over his head as Kamui blows on the dirt. The particles glimmer, Julian's form shimmering like a distant mirage before the colors and shapes blur into something completely different. Seeing the result of his spell, Kamui exhales a gentle sigh of relief. It had worked perfectly.

There's a notable edge of discomfort on Julian's face when the effect clears, his shoulders tensed up as if the magic was about to hurt him. As the tickle of magic fades he starts to relax, eyes fluttering open.

"That felt rather odd—Oh?" A bronzed hand slightly shorter than Julian's own reaches up towards his throat, brushing over a golden choker. "That's not my voice."

"It sure isn't," Kamui responds, digging around in his inner jacket pockets before pulling out a pearlescent scallop-shell compact mirror, flicking it open and holding it out for Julian to see. The man leans forward, surprised to find he no longer has to lean very far to match Kamui's eye level, and peers into the mirror. Amethyst eyes widen, a hand raising to brush aside several strands of soft, ivory hair.

Then a grin breaks out across his face ear-to-ear. "Oh, this is _good_ ," Julian says, his voice and appearance a perfect mimicry of Asra's. He takes the compact from Kamui's hand to get a better look at himself. It's a lot like how Kamui looks every morning, checking out his own reflection from every angle in search of imperfections, fluffing his hair to get the shape right.

"Nice to see you're enjoying yourself," Kamui comments.

"Oh, if only he were here. He would hate this."

Tilting his head to one side, Kamui thinks back on the day prior. "Oh, I don't know if he would _hate_ it, exactly." Probably wouldn't be thrilled if he kissed _this_ mirror image, though.

"I could find a way to make it insufferable, trust me," Julian says, turning to Kamui with a playful wink. Kamui ignores the flash of heat that look gives him, accepting the compact back from Julian. Tucking it away inside his coat, he starts off towards the exit, avoiding eye contact while his face cools. Julian doesn't seem to notice a thing, too amazed by the spell to see anything else.

Along the way to the palace, he practices his Asra impression, constantly asking Kamui for his opinion. It's a bit difficult to do so, however, as, in his excitement, his pace is even quicker than usual, requiring Kamui to practically run in order to keep up with him.

"You know, Asra walks much slower than this," Kamui gripes, a touch breathless. "He's not eight feet tall like you are. We magicians have short legs."

Distractedly, Julian looks back at Kamui, as if just now noticing the man was even there. "Ah. My apologies," he mumbles, purposefully slowing his pace to match Kamui's. "What should I be doing? Do you usually do the talking, or does he?"

"He usually doesn't talk much at all," Kamui says, raising a brow. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"Oh, yes, naturally," Julian is quick to agree. "Asra doesn't talk much. Believe me, it's hard to maintain such an aura of mystery once you open your mouth." He blushes; the expression is absolutely adorable on Asra's face, and Kamui finds himself wishing he was the type to look that way naturally.

"I like you better the way you are," Kamui says. "You're very open and honest." He smirks. "Asra is too, once you get to know him." With everything he deems safe to share, anyway.

"I guess I never really knew him," Julian says, sounding a bit downcast. Kamui looks up at him, curious.

The two enter the palace proper, the guards barely batting an eye at either of them, even as Julian tenses in their presence. Kamui takes him by the hand, leading him farther in, praying they aren't stopped at any point.

"Oh, Kamui!" The two turn at the sound of Portia's voice, seeing her waiting nearby. Her eyes widen at the sight of the magician standing at his side. "Oh, and you must be Asra. Are you here to see the Countess?"

Kamui looks up at Julian, who stares blankly back at Portia, before lightly nudging the doctor in the ribs.

"Oh!" Julian starts, forcefully assuming a neutral expression. It's a little too serious looking to pass as Asra's resting face. "Uh, y-yes, we—we have some important business to discuss."

Portia raises a brow, squinting up at the white-haired magician, a bead of sweat forming on his face. " _Ilya_?" At the mention of his name, Julian stiffens, and Portia immediately snorts, a cat-like grin spreading across her lips. "Oh, wow, you are _not_ convincing," she says, a hint of a laugh in her tone. Julian bristles, offended.

"Yes, well, it doesn't matter now, does it? You've seen right through my _clever ruse_ ," Julian says, his feathers a bit ruffled by her critique.

"Oh, yeah, real clev—Ah! Milday!"

Portia's cobalt eyes catch on something behind the two "magicians", causing both of them to whip around to look. Nadia stands in the hallway not far from them, surprised. Slowly, her expression softens, a tender smile gracing her lips.

"Portia, there you are," Nadia says, her voice smooth like velvet. Kamui finds it curious she addresses her servant first, but says nothing of it. Her gaze slowly shifts to the two "magicians". "Ah, Kamui, Asra. What a pleasant surprise. Have you returned from your training?"

Her gaze is fixed directly on Julian. With his heart pounding dangerously loud in his ears, Kamui looks up at the doctor, who appears to be having the same problem. He's tensed up far more than Asra ever is, even at his most nervous, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.

Nadia hums, brows quirking, puzzled, but Julian speaks up before she can start asking questions. "Afternoon, Countess. We've returned to assist in the investigation," he tries, his voice mostly level. Kamui heaves a huge sigh of relief at that, along with the way Nadia's expression relaxes.

"I'm pleased to hear that," Nadia says, a soft smile gracing her lips. "How _did_ the training go?"

"Quite well," Julian says, slowly beginning to relax. He places his left hand on top of his bag, as if just now remembering to do so, fingers stiff around the strap. "We've... succeeded in opening our third ears."

Kamui's teeth bite down hard into his lip, both out of mortification and an attempt not to laugh. Nadia doesn't seem to notice anything, trusting the visage of Asra completely.

"I apologize for our extended leave of absence, Countess," Kamui adds, attempting to draw the attention away from Julian. "Time tends to get away from you when you're lost in a world of magic. We're here to return to the investigation as promised."

It sounded like a pretty good excuse. As opposed to ' _we ran away to escape our problems and get laid_ '.

Nadia smiles, satisfied with his response. Kamui internally releases a sigh of relief, allowing his body to relax a bit more. "It pleases me to hear that," she says. "Although you needn't be so formal. Just Nadia is fine."

"Of course," Kamui says. "Nadia."

"Is there something you've got planned for today?" she asks, her attention flickering between the two.

"Uh," Kamui starts, very eloquently.

"Actually, Countess, we were hoping to get a look at the Count's old room," Julian says, drawing Kamui's startled gaze. His tone was a little too exact all of a sudden, making it hard to remember he wasn't actually looking at Asra. Even his posture had relaxed considerably.

"Lucio's chambers...?" Nadia questions, surprised. "Is there something you're looking for?"

Kamui quickly pipes up, "We can't say too much about it right now, other than that we believe there's something we might find there, something crucial to the investigation."

It wasn't even a lie, although neither of them had any actual plans about what they were going to do besides look around.

"I see..." Nadia trails off, her eyes glancing off to one side in thought. "As it so happens, that wing is currently under renovations. I don't believe you'd be able to get much done with so many servants around. However, I expect they'll be finished within the evening. I shall send for you as soon as they're done."

"Perfect," Kamui says with a smile. "Well, in the meantime, we'll be in the library. Uh, researching."

"Of course. Portia, I believe you have the keys?"

"I do, indeed," Portia chirps. "I'll take them right to it, milady."

The four exchange polite bows as Nadia excuses herself down the hallway. Once she's completely out of earshot, Portia, Kamui, and Julian sag, exhaling sighs of relief.

"Well, that could have gone worse," Julian comments. Kamui elbows Julian in the ribs none-too-gently. "Okay, _ow_."

"Third ear, really?"

"What? That's a magic thing, isn't it?"

"It's third—Nevermind," Kamui says, shaking his head as Portia snickers in the background. "It's not important."

Once inside the library, Portia locks the door, closing the two of them in. Julian's illusory amethyst eyes glance around the library, his gaze lingering, a sense of nostalgia washing over him. Having just been here several days ago, Kamui isn't nearly as interested, finding his way to the couch and flopping down on top of it. He lets the glamour drop now that they're hidden, watching Julian wander around the room, perhaps with some sense of purpose Kamui isn't aware of.

"I may not know anything about magic, but even I can tell there's something magical going on here," Julian comments. "Luckily, we're in a library. Perfect place for learning."

"You could also just ask," Kamui calls out, flipping over onto his back. He waves a hand through the air in a circular motion. "Real live magician, over here."

"Well, now, that would be too easy, wouldn't it?"

He continues pawing through the books for awhile longer, depositing a whole stack of them on a nearby table. With a soft sigh, Kamui continues speaking. Now that they were alone, and equally sober, there was no reason not to.

"The last time I was in here..." Kamui trails off, flashing back to his time with Faust, where the gentle traces of Asra's magic guided him around. "You said a lot of things, earlier. You, um, remember them, right?"

He had no idea how being drunk worked, but it had something to do with memory loss, he was pretty sure.

"I say a lot of things," he says, his tone sounding strained, like he was forcing the words out. "It was really just a load of nonsense. Drunken ramblings. Nothing to concern yourself over."

Frowning, Kamui goes to rise up, to protest that it _really_ didn't sound like nothing at the time, but Julian's already moved on, spotting his old desk tucked away in a corner of the library. With a sigh, Kamui pushes up off the couch to go join him.

Papers and books alike get tossed aside, transforming the desk into an even bigger mess than it already was. Kamui glances over diagrams and medical logs alike, spread out all over the wooden surface in a haphazard array. He lifts one at random, squinting at a drawing of a very familiar red beetle.

"Julian, what are these?" he asks, tilting the drawing in Julian's direction.

"Plague beetles," the doctor responds, hardly sparing the drawing much of a glance before returning to his search. "Carriers of the disease."

"Of the... Wait, _what?_ "

The drawing gets crumpled in his hands, nearly tearing the paper. How could that be? Everyone told him the plague was over. Were they wrong? Was it just lying dormant this entire time?

Julian doesn't seem to notice his alarmed reaction at all, busy digging through a drawer like a man on a mission. Ignoring that, Kamui's eyes rake over the page, struggling to make sense of any of the horrid, chicken scratch writing. Some of the ink was smeared, the rest was just illegible, as if by design.

Either way, he tucks the drawing into his jacket, returning his attention to Julian as the man pulls something out of the drawers. It makes a gentle clinking sound as he tosses it into the air, catching it on the way down. A red key, intricately designed, lightly rusted and dulled around the edges.

" _This_ is what was calling to me," Julian says victoriously, pocketing the key. He flashes Kamui an exuberant look, grabbing him by the arms. The sudden touch catches him off guard, scarlet eyes widening with surprise. "I'm one step closer. If it weren't for you, I'd still be two steps behind," Julian continues, elated, sparks in his eye. Wrapped up in his excitement, he scoops Kamui up in his arms, lifting him several inches off the ground in the process. A startled laugh forces its way out of Kamui's throat, as he clings to Julian's shoulders for support, not realizing how much he missed having those slender arms around him, tight and warm and safe.

A loud noise from the nearby window startles Julian into nearly dropping him; Julian acts fast, more-or-less carrying the magician over to the nearest corner, pressing both of them into it as tight as possible. As white boots make contact with the ground again, Julian's paranoid gaze searches the library behind them for threats. Finding nothing, he turns beet red, breath hitching when Kamui's chest presses up against his.

"Just a bird," he mumbles, embarrassed. "Sorry."

Their bodies are close, enough that a breath from either of them would create a point of contact. The fact has Julian's face burning, biting his lip as he looks down at the lack of space between them.

This was... familiar. Just with far better lighting, allowing both of them clearer views of each other. Of Julian's pale, stark white skin, stained a deep pink, sharp cheekbones and black eyeshadow accentuating the man's brooding features. Kamui wanted to reach up, to brush aside his hair, to feel his warmed skin push against his palm, to hear the needy little sound he would make, thumb brushing his lower lip.

But—he couldn't.

He tears his eyes away, ignoring the pain in his chest and pressing his hand against Julian's torso just hard enough to get the point across.

"O-Oh. Right. Sorry," Julian mumbles, disappointment clear in his voice as he takes a step back, putting enough distance between them for Kamui to breathe easy.

That was... dangerous. This was dangerous.

"I really am... sorry. About everything," he continues, snapping Kamui back to attention. There's a deep blush on his face, and he avoids eye contact, pretending to scratch at his forehead just to have a hand to hide behind. "I don't know what I was thinking, rejecting you like I did. Temporary madness."

 _Oh._ Embarrassed, Kamui finds himself pressing tighter against the wall, like he depended on it for support. Even though there's no eye contact to begin with, he finds himself needing to look away. Take Julian out of his line of sight, lest his traitorous heart beat any faster.

"It perhaps goes without saying that I find you... very, very attractive," Julian says. "I don't... I don't know what to do."

Chewing the inside of his mouth, Kamui risks a glance over at Julian. He's sure their expressions look pretty similar at this point; burning bright red against pale skin, eyes unfocused, lips pressed tightly together, afraid to breathe normally. There's a certain fiery passion in Julian's smokey iris that Kamui doesn't want to look at.

Except that he _does_ , and that's the worst part. He can't look away.

"What would you have me do?" Julian asks.

_Kiss me. Touch me. Anything._

"Nothing," Kamui says instead. He lets his eyes fall shut, not wanting to see Julian's reaction. The rejection, the hurt, the shock. Not that it matters. His mind fills in the blanks for him. "We can't, Julian." Absently, he grasps at the front of his scarf, pulling it tighter around his neck, concealing it front view.

Silence, and then, "There's someone else, isn't there." It, notably, isn't a question, but Kamui nods anyway. "Right. Of course."

"I'm sorry," Kamui says. His eyes flutter open, but he keeps them directed away from Julian, not wanting to see the look of rejection on his face. The last thing he wanted to do was break his heart, but, well.

 _If you had just waited_ —No, but, Asra... that wasn't a mistake. He liked him. Maybe even a bit deeper than just 'like'. There was a wellspring of emotion inside of him reserved just for the magician and he hadn't the chance to explore all of it yet. He wasn't willing to give any of that up.

But—if that was true, why did he want, so badly, to throw himself at Julian and kiss him breathless? To back him into his desk and grab his hips, bite his lip, run his hands through his hair—Was he a bad person? Even thinking about it felt like a betrayal.

What would Asra think of him?

"AH! Milday! Finished up so soon?! That's a surprise!"

The two men jolt in near unison, startled at the sudden break in silence. Prior conversation shoved far from the forefront of their minds, their eyes finally meet, a mutual look of panic shared between them.

"Th-The spell," Julian says.

"I can't, I don't have anything to use."

"Then, we... we need to leave, _now_."

A click of a lock coming undone causes Julian to jump, as if an arrow had been fired in his direction. With some obviously-fake, awkward fumbling, Portia drops the key, buying them some time.

Kamui glances wildly around the library; how were they supposed to get out? The window was way too high up, and he didn't know how to properly use a floating spell on a human yet, not to mention there was sure to be someone who would see Julian and throw a fit. Julian was too big to just—put on Kamui's jacket and hide under the hood. How...?

"I won't have you caught in my mess, Kamui," Julian starts, turning towards the shorter man with a sardonic smile. "Just—Just go. Hide somewhere. She'll be too busy arresting me to notice you."

"Wh-Excuse me? Hell no!" Kamui snaps, keeping his voice down, more of a stage whisper than anything.

Julian matches his hushed tone as he says, "There's no other way! What would you prefer? For the both of us to get arrested? I can't let that happen."

"It's not up to you!"

"Then what else do you—"

Kamui grabs Julian's wrist, his heart pounding in his ears loud enough that he can barely make out Julian's words of protest. Dragging him across the room, he casts out with his magic, searching for something, anything. Asra had been in here before, he must have left something—

 _There_.

The next lock clicks open, Julian's eye fixed on the door, internally counting the number of locks left. With a quiet groan, he turns back to Kamui with a sneer. "Dammit, we can't both hide in here, Kamui. Just—Just let me do this for you."

"Shut up," Kamui snaps with a heated whisper. His head snaps in Julian's direction, a fire blazing in his eyes that has Julian's glare withering away. "You're going to throw your life away this quickly? You've found _nothing_."

The scowl on Julian's face is much less convincing as he says, "I've been ready to die since I set foot back in Vesuvia. A few unanswered questions won't make me turn in my coffin."

A pale hand wraps in a vice grip around Julian's wrist, legs locking, refusing to let him even consider walking away. Even as Kamui's heart pounds hard enough in his chest to make him mildly afraid of it just— _bursting_. "I won't let you sacrifice yourself for me," Kamui says firmly, with an expression that says _'Just try it'._

Another lock clicks open—there aren't very many left. With an anxious glance back at the door, Julian worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Sighing, he says, "You're really not going to give this up, are you?"

"They'll take you over my dead body," Kamui says lowly, with a threatening and dangerous tone that has Julian's breath stilling, his eye widening at the intensity of that statement. For awhile he just stares, uncomprehending, as more locks come undone in the background.

"Don't... No, neither of us are dying today," he says, the determination building in his tone. His gaze shoots over to the window, "We can jump out through there. I don't suppose you know how to fly? I mean, Asra used to do this thing—"

"I can't float, Julian, and everyone will see if we go that way," Kamui says. "Don't worry. I have something." _I think._

He tugs Julian over behind a bookcase, brushing hanging ivy aside between two marble pillars. There's a symbol carved into the wall in a serpentine shape Kamui knows very well. Pressing his hands against it, he can feel it; gentle, soothing, warm. Asra's magic reacts to his touch like a living being, glowing softly as he pours his magic into it, seeking to activate the portal.

The final lock clicks open.

"Shit," Kamui whispers, his hands slipping, briefly interrupting the spell.

The door slowly, _agonizingly_ slowly, pushes open. From their position, it would take the Countess some time to notice them, but Kamui wasn't willing to gamble on those odds. Not with the way Julian's wringing his hands, his posture tense like he was debating on whether or not to rush out and reveal himself.

"Countess, were you looking for me?"

Julian freezes, and the two men turn to look, peering around the bookcase.

"Ah, Asra. Not in the library after all? Where's Kamui?" Nadia asks, turning to face the magician stood in the doorway behind her.

"I sent him off to pick up an ingredient from the shop," he responds, and _god_ , bless him.

"What a pity. He could have joined us for lunch. Well, _you_ will join me, won't you?"

"Of course, Countess," Asra easily agrees.

"Please, there's no need to be so formal. Just Nadia is fine."

Their conversation trails off, as Nadia and Portia head out through the door to the library. Asra lingers for a moment, his eyes landing immediately on Kamui and Julian. The doctor tenses, as if he longs to rush out and confront him, but holds back. There's a strained look on Asra's face as he regards Julian, something heavy passing between them before the magician abruptly turns, following Nadia out into the hallway.

Heaving a huge sigh of relief, the two men sag, as Kamui says, "You owe him." He watches Julian continue to stare toward the door, where Asra had once been.

With a shuddering breath just barely resembling a laugh, Julian turns back towards Kamui, saying, "That's not as fun as it sounds."

After activating the portal, Kamui yanks Julian in after him, leading them out into the palace courtyard, between the fountain and willow tree. For a moment Kamui wants to laugh—of course Asra had a portal leading out here. Why walk all the way back and forth if he could teleport instead? So clever, and so lazy.

Without thinking Kamui grabs Julian's hand, leading him away from the open area and into somewhere less conspicuous. He's not sure where they're going—out of the palace entirely, perhaps—but his question is answered for him as Portia makes an appearance, stumbling into them on accident. Kamui nearly has a heart attack at her popping out of the leaves; if that had been a guard...

She leads the lot of them deeper into the gardens, explaining to them the intricacies of the guard's routes and how to best avoid detection while on the palace grounds. Kamui nods along as best as he can, but, really, he's just trying to map out the path they're taking in his head.

Once at the cottage, Kamui can't keep his eyes from wandering. It was just so—full of life, full of energy. There were flowers and little birds everywhere, like something out of a storybook.

"Oh, Asra would love this," Kamui sighs wistfully, taking in the sights. It's so cozy, it almost takes him back to the hut in Nopal, to the warm glow, the serenity, the soft sheets. The feeling of lying in Asra's arms, safe, like nothing in the world could ever get to them.

This was different, of course. But very lovely nonetheless.

"He would, wouldn't he," Julian comments, so quietly Kamui almost doesn't catch it. When he turns to look, Julian is facing away, keeping his expression hidden.

"Really?" Portia asks, walking right up onto the front steps of her cottage, where she shooes away a few birds without even looking. "You should bring him down here sometime, Kamui. It'll be like a little party."

Her smile is infectious, and Kamui finds himself returning with a smile of his own. "Thanks, Portia. I'll have to ask him later."

He turns to look back up at Julian, who's glancing around at Portia's garden with a complex look in his eye. "It is really nice," Julian compliments, sounding almost sad, or envious, maybe. "You've made something really nice for yourself, out here."

"Oh, you know. I try," Portia responds. "Really, I have milady to thank for all of this." Julian turns at that, glancing over his sister's expression, apparently seeing something Kamui doesn't. "She was kind enough to give me this place."

"Seems... extravagant," Julian comments, brows creasing. "That's quite the gift."

Oblivious to whatever it is Julian's noticed, Kamui adds, "Nadia really likes you, Portia. I can tell."

Portia turns red. "Well, I mean, that's just how she is. She's very kind," she says, pressing the tips of her fingers together.

"Mmmhmm," Julian hums, his lips pressed into a knowing grin.

Ignoring him, Portia unlocks the front door to her cottage, pushing it open to let the two men inside. However, before they can, a Siamese cat darts outside, startling them with her sudden appearance.

" _Cat_ ," Kamui exclaims, the word tumbling from his lips on automatic. His gaze is fixed on the feline, unable to look away.

"Oh, yeah. That's Pepi," Portia says. "She probably thinks I have something for her..."

She goes to scoop up the cat, but Kamui is already kneeling in the dirt in front of Pepi, without a care to the cleanliness of his stark white pants, letting her smell his hand. The cat doesn't even bother smelling him, enthusiastically shoving her head against his hand with a rumbling purr. The sound Kamui makes in response to this is several octaves higher than his normal speaking voice.

"Ohhh, baby," Kamui coos, carefully pulling Pepi into his arms and cradling her against his chest. She goes willingly, peering curiously up at him as he gives her a gentle squeeze, followed up by plenty of pets. "Ohhhh you're so soft, I love you, sweet angel..."

Outside his notice, the siblings have gathered nearby, watching with wide eyes. Portia snickers, pressing her lips tightly together to muffle the sound. Oblivious, Kamui raises to his feet, careful not to jostle the cat in his arms, turning to see Julian looking at him in surprise which quickly gives way to amusement.

"A cat person, huh?" he drawls, smirking.

Kamui's face warms, but he ignores that, tightening his arms around Pepi. "...I like cats," he mumbles lamely.

"Clearly," Portia comments.

"I didn't know your voice went that high," Julian says.

 _I know yours does_ , Kamui thinks, but keeps that comment to himself. "There's a lot about me you don't know yet," he mysteriously responds.

With a laugh, Portia says, "Well, come on inside. I'll whip you two up something to eat."

"Oh!" Kamui exclaims, Pepi making a small squeak of complaint at the sudden movement. "Mazelinka gave us soup earlier. Should we eat those?"

"Soup, huh? Is that what it is now?" Julian asks with a shit-eating grin.

"Like, 90% soup, 10% magic," Kamui guestimates. "You were drinking a potion at her place and I'll fight _anyone_ to the death on that."

Snickering, Portia weighs in with a pitying tone. "His palate isn't sophisticated enough to recognize the taste of magic, Kamui."

Julian scoffs, offended, about to raise a stink about her claim when Kamui blurts out, "Finally, someone understands! It has a taste!"

"There's no taste!" Julian argues.

"Wow, rude. You gonna tell her that to her face, Ilya?" Portia asks, pursing her lips and giving him an innocent, wide-eyed expression. "After all the effort she put into raising us? You'll break her poor little heart."

"That's not what I _meant_ , Pasha."

The debate continues on into the interior of Portia's cottage, which is even cozier than Kamui imagined. It's easy to feel right at home, as he takes a seat at a nearby table, Julian sitting across from him. He tries not to be _too_ disappointed when Pepi jumps out of his arms, curling up in the window instead.

Kamui fishes the jar out of his pocket, setting it down on the table where the golden mixture glitters gently in the sunlight streaming in through the open windows. Julian digs through his pockets, searching, until Kamui takes pity on him, informing him of its exact location. With a sheepish grin he removes the bottle from his cape, setting it down next to Kamui's.

"I'll heat these up for you," Portia says, reaching for one of the two mason jars.

"Oh, I can do it—"

"Nonsense, you're my guest. Let me do my hostly duties." There's a goofy smile on Portia's face as she scoops up the two bottles with a little bow, carrying them over to her kitchenette.

With her busy heating the stove, Kamui looks to Julian to find him staring out the window, past Pepi's slumbering form. Following his gaze, he sees leaves and other flowering plants swaying gently in the breeze. It feels peaceful. The expression on Julian's face is anything but, though.

"I, uh. I didn't expect to see Asra again," he says. "We have a bit of a history, he and I."

"I know," Kamui says. It doesn't surprise Julian to hear; he just nods, leaning his head against the nearby wall as a blush spreads over his cheeks. The look in his eye is miserable, despite how neutral he's trying to keep his expression. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I just... I think I made a lot of assumptions," Julian starts. Nodding along, Kamui leans his arms on the table. "I feel like I was very selfish with him. Wanting more than he was willing to give me, despite what he would tell me. I just... thought things would change, if I kept trying. Quite foolish of me, really."

"Hmm," Kamui hums, turning to stare out the window, pondering. "Do you still think about him?"

It's quiet for a few seconds, during which Kamui thinks he might've lost him, turning back to see Julian chewing his bottom lip. "...Sometimes," he admits, so quietly that Kamui's pretty sure no one but him heard it. "I shouldn't."

"There's nothing wrong with it," Kamui says, reaching out to place a hand over Julian's, where it rests on the table between them. He startles slightly, staring down at where their hands touch, like he isn't sure how it could've happened. A bit idealistically, Kamui continues with, "Love is a powerful emotion, isn't it?"

"I," Julian starts, practically choking on that single syllable. His blush deepens, and he distracts himself by looking back outside. Kamui wonders if it's where he'd rather be; outside, where this conversation isn't happening.

"Sorry. Is that too much?"

There's no time for Julian to respond before Portia returns, setting two bowls and spoons down on the table. Kamui quickly draws his hand back. "There you go! Just like grandma used to make."

"That's because grandma _did_ make it," Julian responds, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to ground himself.

"Semantics," Portia dismisses, flapping her hand. She shifts her attention to Kamui. "You know how to get back, right?" He nods, and she flashes a smile. "Okay, cool. Do you want anything? Water...?"

"I'm good, thank you, oh gracious host of mine," Kamui says, feigning a sitting curtsy with the ends of his shirt.

"Maybe I want water," Julian says, raising a brow at his sister, who just returns the look.

"There's a hose outside," she deadpans.

"Um? Wow? Okay," Julian says, throwing a hand over his heart. "My own sister, telling me to drink out of a hose. The audacity."

Portia snorts, rolling her eyes at him. "Anyway, I have to get back to work. Do you think you can escort him out after you're done?"

"I have to speak to the Countess after this," Kamui says. "Asra and I discovered something we need to bring to her attention."

Portia hums in thought. "The guards change their rotation later tonight. So long as Ilya doesn't start drawing attention to himself, he should be fine until then."

"That should work," Kamui says, nodding. "We'll come back to pick him up later."

Halfway to spooning some of the soup into his mouth, Julian stills. "We?" he repeats.

"Well, if I'm taking you somewhere, it might as well be back to the shop. That way Asra can come with me, and we can sleep there instead of having to come back to the palace, dead tired."

"Y-You don't have to go _that_ far for me, really, just outside the palace is enough."

"Mmm," Kamui hums, pretending to think about it. "No."

"...No?" Julian repeats, squinting across the table at him.

"No," Kamui says, very matteroffactly. "Now eat your magic soup."

Pouting a bit, Julian does exactly as he's told, much to Portia's amusement. "Alright, well, just cover the windows when you're done. I'll see you tonight, Kamui. And your handsome magician friend, too, I guess," she adds, grinning.

Kamui starts to blurt out ' _He's taken_ ' but holds back in front of Julian. Not the time.

After saying their goodbyes, Portia exits the cottage, leaving the two men—and cat—to their own devices. At first, they just eat in silence. For all of thirty seconds, before Julian starts talking again.

"She has something so nice out here," he comments, his eye wandering the interior of Portia's cottage, taking in all the rustic furniture, the cozy little bed, the tidy kitchenette, the cute little paintings hung up on the walls. "Her own home, a garden, a pet. It's so stable. I just wonder... could I have something like this, too?"

"Of _course_ you could," Kamui immediately responds, aiming for reassuring with his tone. He can sense it—the insecurity, the hopelessness, and he isn't about to let Julian drift down that path. Not again. "What would you want? A cute little cottage and a cat, or maybe something in the city, like my shop?"

It works. "Oh, I used to have this clinic," he says, a wistful look in his eye. "Didn't get to spend a lot of time in it, not with the plague getting as bad as it was, but it was nice. Wasn't very big or fancy, but it was a place to lie my head."

He's smiling, now, as he continues, chatting Kamui's ear off about the clinic, about his old dog—Kamui tries his best not to look uncomfortable at that part—rambling on about some bizarre and at times morbid tales of his time as a city doctor. These don't bother him to hear about, not even considering they're both eating as Julian goes on and on about amputations or other such things.

"You should reopen your clinic," Kamui suggests. "I'll help you with the upstart costs, if that's an issue."

Julian's eye widens. "Would you? I wouldn't want to burden you with something like that, not when you've already got your own business to look after."

"I have a business partner, remember? I'm not doing it alone, and you don't have to, either." He neglects to add that it's not even his shop, he just lives in and works at it. Although, with how often Asra travels, it tends to feel like it's his shop. "Oh, and you'd have your own room. How would you decorate? Black bedsheets, candelabras? What are you into?"

The minor subject change works yet again, keeping Julian away from his nervous ramblings. He raises a brow, flashing a toothy grin. " _Candelabras_?"

"What, would you prefer fuzzy pink pillows instead?"

That comment gets Julian to laugh; and not just a small chuckle, or pushing air out of his nose really fast. A genuine, loud, graceless laugh, the mood and ease at which they communicate getting to him more than the actual concept of fuzzy pillows. It's infectious, and Kamui finds himself laughing until his eyes water.

Following that, one of them will make some kind of joke or amusing comment, just to get them both laughing all over again. Their conversation continues on in a similar pattern until their soups are long gone, and Julian has nearly ruined his eye makeup all over again.

"I haven't had this much fun in years," Julian confesses, carefully wiping a tear from his eye. There's a fond look in his eye as he settles, folding his arms over the table. "You really know how to light up a room, don't you?"

Kamui's face warms. "I want to see you laugh and smile all the time," he says. It was the truth, and he felt it shouldn't be such a flustering thing to say—he just wanted to see his friend be happy—and yet his heart pounds, like he'd just confessed love. Was it the phrasing? He couldn't be sure. Maybe he should find something else to say. "We can talk more tonight. And tomorrow, and after that, too, if you want to. I'm here for you."

Oh, no, that was worse, wasn't it? The pink coating Julian's face says it must be. What can he say to dial it back? Or would speaking again in and of itself make everything worse...??

"I'd like that, I think," Julian says, smiling softly over at Kamui. Or, well, what qualified for soft on such an expressive face as his. It was—a noted difference.

And, oh, how he adored the idea of a _soft_ Julian.

He needed to leave immediately.

Excusing himself as quickly and subtly as possible, Kamui makes his exit. As soon as he's on the other side of the front door, he heaves a huge sigh; be it of relief, or some other emotion, he's not sure.

This was getting very complicated, very fast. Not his style, really, but what was he supposed to do?

Along the way through Portia's garden, he glances around, committing the area to memory. There's a familiar dark-feathered bird hanging out in one of the trees nearby, its beady black eyes remaining fixed on him the entire time he walks past.

He heads for the guest chambers first thing. Before the door is even opened fully, he can tell Asra is there waiting; Faust shoots out from between the crack in the door, climbing up to his shoulders at record speed. Nuzzling her scales against his cheek, he laughs, nearly forgetting to open the door the rest of the way.

Sure enough, laid out on the plush bed, all the pillows rearranged to support his neck and shoulders, is the magician in question. His boots are neatly arranged by the bed, next to his satchel, while he naps, curled up as cozy as can be.

As Kamui quietly closes the door behind him, Faust circles his neck once before making her way back to Asra. She coils around the magician's neck, headbutting him to get his attention—or to give him little snake kisses. Perhaps both.

Asra's lips quirk into a smile, barely concealing his ticklish laughter enough to truly pretend to still be asleep. With an affectionate smile, Kamui heads over to the bed, finding a spot by Asra's ankles to sit down at.

Violet eyes flutter open, slowly adjusting to the change in lighting. With a drowsy sigh he turns, lightly pecking Faust on the head. " _Kiss!_ " she squeals.

Kamui readjusts his position to curl up next to his partner. "Morning, sleepyhead," he says, wrapping an arm around Asra. He leans in, pressing a kiss to the bridge of the magician's nose. While Faust settles into his fluffy nest of hair, he smiles, reaching out to smooth a hand over Kamui's cheek.

"Mmm... missed you," he mumbles, leaning in to steal a kiss of his own, but from Kamui's lips instead. It's chaste, but Kamui finds himself drawn to it, pulling Asra back in to prolong the contact.

"I didn't," Kamui teases, grinning at Asra's faux look of offense. With a small, closed-mouth giggle he leans back in for another kiss, followed closely by another, and another. At some point Asra's arms wrap around him, tugging him closer, and all pretenses are lost to more kissing.

Kamui pulls away, chuckling, as Asra trails his lips down a warm, pale neck. "Aren't we supposed to be doing something?" Soft hands smooth down Kamui's sides, coming precariously close to resting over his ass. Asra hums innocently.

"I asked Nadi to prepare a few things for us," he says, bringing his head back up to face Kamui properly. "Haven't told her why yet. Was waiting for you."

As Asra's hands finally lower to his backside, giving him a firm squeeze, Kamui laughs. "Well, how genteel of you," he says with a joking smile. He pushes back against Asra's hands, just to be a brat. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh?"

"Mhm," Kamui starts, finding it hard to continue as one of Asra's hands press down the length of his thigh, tight enough to feel it plainly through the fabric of his pants. Asra lowers his head to trail kisses down Kamui's neck, causing his breath to catch, heat pooling low in his body. "Y-You're such a distraction."

"Am I?" Asra says, not even trying to sound innocent. "You're just so tempting..." He pulls Kamui's leg higher over his body, placing one of his between Kamui's thighs, deliciously close to the man's groin. Asra's other hand raises up over Kamui's back, causing him to arch into the magician's chest.

"You're—in a mood," Kamui gasps.

"I just want to touch you," Asra says, his voice hardly above a whisper. "Do you want me to stop?"

 _No._ "Depends on where you're going with this."

Asra hums, noncommittal. "Wherever it leads me."

Kamui scoffs, feeling a nose poking under his scarf. "Tease." Asra laughs, the sound reverberating against his skin.

There's a knock on the door not long after that. With a groan Kamui starts pulling away, Asra's arms loosening to let him sit up. "Doesn't lead very far, apparently," Kamui grumbles as he gets to his feet, hearing soft laughter behind him.

He answers the door to find the Countess herself on the other side of it. Despite Nadia being one of the most logical candidates, Kamui is still surprised to see her, and automatically he feels like he should be fixing his appearance—was his hair okay? Did he—oh no, he had dirt all over his pants, didn't he?

If she notices anything of the sort, it doesn't phase her. "Ah, Kamui. You've returned. Did you find the ingredient you were looking for?"

"Ah, right. Everything's been taken care of, Coun—Nadia," he says.

Asra walks up behind him, slowly stretching out his arms, his back popping. He looks perfectly relaxed and at home in Nadia's presence, like a sleepy cat.

"Evening, Nadia," Asra greets, a contented smile on his face. "How are the preparations...?"

"That's actually what I'm here for," Nadia says. "I don't quite understand the request, but everything's been prepared. Now, as I recall, there was something the two of you wished to speak with me about...?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to come out yesterday but it got so ridiculously hot (97F) that I couldn't function properly enough to finish revising this so I MISSED ASRA'S BIRTHDAY and I'm SORRY


	7. Strength - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been calling this "the bisexual picnic"

Slipping back into their shoes, the magicians follow Nadia into one of the many parlors, where a servant presents them with tea before Nadia dismisses them from the room. "There," Nadia says, "No one will overhear us. Now, please, tell me. Have you found the doctor yet?"

"Uh," Kamui stutters, his throat locking up. He looks helplessly to Asra, who appears entirely unphased by the question, responding easily.

"We have something a bit more potentially dire to discuss than that," Asra says, carefully steering the conversation away from Julian. He talks about what they'd discovered while visiting Nopal. As he goes over the tale, Nadia's expression rapidly morphs into alarm.

"Are you certain they were the same as the ones before?"

While Asra nods in the affirmative, Kamui pulls the sheet of paper out of his jacket, drawing Nadia's attention. "They looked like this," he says, showing off the drawing. He hands it off to Nadia, who holds it gingerly, careful not to damage it in any way. Turning to glance over at Asra, he sees the magician looking a touch surprised, returning Kamui's gaze questioningly.

"I found it in the doctor's old desk," Kamui explains, praising himself on not calling Julian by name. "It was instantly familiar, and I thought it would help..."

"I see..." Nadia hands the drawing back over to Kamui, who returns the paper to his jacket pocket. "This is most troubling. What are we supposed to do to stop a swarm of insects?"

Just then, the door bursts open, the sound of a servant's pleas drowned out by the booming voice of one of Nadia's courtiers, a second following close behind them.

"Did someone say 'swarm of insects'?"

Nadia sighs. "So much for privacy," she says under her breath.

Kamui squints up at the pair, struggling to recall their names. They were all... V-something, right? It felt like so long ago that he'd met them. The only one that had made enough of an impression at the time had been the one to nearly ruin his favorite coat.

The wider of the two—Vulgora?—has one of the beetles grasped tightly in a gauntletted hand, crushing the life out of it. "My house has been infested with these things," they say, their voice loud enough to make Kamui's ears throb painfully.

The other courtier, whose name he _believes_ is Volta, gravitates instantly towards Nadia. While the Countess speaks with Vulgora about the infestation, Kamui glances over to Asra, who seems like he's racking his brain in an attempt to recognize the two. Volta says something about eating and his eyes light up in recognition.

"Wait, I remember you," Asra says, smoothly interjecting into the conversation. "Procurator Volta. You could smell the plague."

"The plague has a scent?" Kamui asks, bewildered by the concept.

"None that you or I could smell," Asra responds. He makes a face, wrinkling his nose. "Please don't go trying, Kamui," he adds, to which Kamui huffs.

"You act like I'm some kind of sniffing deviant."

During their aside, the conversation continues without them. Nadia assigns the courtiers to the task of clearing out the infestation, which the two take to eagerly. Before they can entirely vacate the room, however, Asra calls out for the smaller of the two, who stops immediately, regarding them with a tiny smile.

"Sniff Kamui and I for the plague. Please," he requests. Kamui feels something inside of him twist, at that, the idea that they could have the plague a thought that hadn't even entered his mind.

Volta nods, holding up her skirts to scurry over to the two. She starts with Asra, who leans forward to accommodate her. The sniffing noises she produces are rather loud, but Asra remains still, patiently allowing her to smell him.

"No plague," she announces. An audible sigh of relief passes through Asra's lips.

They both turn to look at Kamui, who hesitantly leans forward as she steps in front of him, leaning over to sniff at his neck. It tickles in a weird sort of way, like a cat purring directly into his ear, and he can't help but shudder. However, she lingers on him much longer than Asra, moving her head to sniff at various parts of him, including his wrist, which she takes in her cold, tiny hands.

"Sweaty," she comments. "Smells like leather."

Kamui freezes, feeling his body temperature sharply rise. Before anyone can notice his reaction, though, Asra says, "No plague, then?"

Volta shakes her head. Asra thanks her, and she gives a little curtsy, leaving the room shortly after. Once she's gone, and the servant closes the doors once more, Kamui lets out a breath, feeling himself start to relax.

"Well, Kamui," Nadia starts, and all that relaxation vanishes. She continues too quickly for his mind to jump to too many conclusions, however. "Perhaps a little freshening up is in order...? You have been rather busy, after all, surely you've accumulated a bit of filth."

Glancing down to the dirt stains on his pants, he bites the inside of his cheek. "I don't want to hold up the investigation," he says. More than that, though, he wants to remain on Nadia's good side.

"If you're sure," Nadia says. "As I recall, your master _did_ request a change of clothes. I can have one of the servants bring you something to wipe yourself down with in the process. Perhaps a perfume...? Do you have a favorite scent?"

"He's not my—" Kamui starts, before his mind catches up to the rest of what Nadia has said, his eyes lighting up. "Clothes? Perfume? Oh, do you have anything that smells like cinnamon?"

He hardly notices the way Asra playfully rolls his eyes, too focused on Nadia, who smiles warmly at him. "Of course. I'll see to it that we have some brought to your room, along with everything else. I hope it will be to your liking."

On the way back to their guest chambers, Kamui catches Asra grinning at him. "What?" The playful quirk of Asra's lips grows a touch wider, his eyes lowering teasingly.

"Nadi likes you," he says, with a bit of a lilt to his voice. Kamui does a double take.

"She what now?"

Asra chuckles. "You should ask her for an elaborate five course meal. I'm sure she'd give it to you."

Ruby eyes rake over Asra's expression, squinting. "Would she...?" His response just has Asra laughing a bit harder, and now he knows the magician is just fucking with him.

"You're easing into this a little too quickly, is all I'm saying," Asra says. "My sweet prince," he adds, cheeky. Kamui hates that it has his face heating up.

Amazingly, they reach the guest chamber a little behind some of Nadia's servants. Inside, there's a colorful bowl of water on the desk, alongside plush towels, soaps, a comb, and three different bottles of perfume. Kamui sets to observing them before noticing the clothing laid out on the beds, which Asra gravitates towards.

Kamui samples the perfumes, turning halfway to watch Asra raising up the fabric laid out on the bed, a sheer robe hung over his arm. "This wasn't quite what I had in mind when I asked for comfortable clothing, but... I suppose it'll work just fine," he says.

"Fashion takes time, Asra," Kamui says wisely. "How can she possibly settle on something so quickly?"

Asra chuckles. "You're right. It takes a lot of time to decide on the right shades of white, red, and gold."

" _Ha_ ," Kamui snarks, casting an unimpressed look in Asra's direction before sampling the third perfume. "Need I remind you that ivory and cream are much different shades, and create totally different looks..."

While he rambles on, Asra pretends to be listening while casually stripping out of his clothes, slipping into one of the robes. Kamui finds his eyes catching on the smooth line of Asra's back as he lets the shimmering fabric sit low down his arms. Asra notices, of course.

"Mmm? What's wrong? No more fashion advice?" he asks, innocently batting his eyelashes with a playful smirk, body angled just right. A heated sigh passes Kamui's pale lips.

"God, but you're beautiful," he says, raising a hand to rest on his chin. The compliment has Asra's cheeks reddening, some of his confidence chipping away. The change encourages Kamui to keep going. "You must know how pretty you are, right?"

Asra's soft lips press together, his throat bobbing. It feels incredibly strange to see him without his choker, like he was entirely _too_ naked without it. There was usually always something on his neck; it was just the gold choker that seemed to be his favorite.

"I... I know how pretty _you_ are," Asra deflects, his smile brightening. This felt like it could very easily devolve into a battle of ' _no, you_ ' for all of eternity, so Kamui lets it go.

"Aren't you going to freshen up, too? You traipsed around in the dirt just as much as I did," Kamui says. "Probably a lot more, actually."

"Didn't you know? I'm magically this clean," Asra brags, but he strides over to the wash basin anyway.

With a roll of his eyes, Kamui grabs one of the smaller towels, drenching it and scrubbing Asra's bare back unprompted. The magician doesn't protest, reacting as if he fully expected it. He leans against the table on folded arms, making little pleased noises as Kamui scrubs the dirt from his body.

He's very thorough, enough that he discovers that Asra has _nothing_ on underneath the robe. At all.

"You're going to go out like this?" Kamui asks, scandalized.

"It's a long robe. And I'm quite comfortable," he says, peering over his shoulder at Kamui with a cat-like contentedness.

With a sigh, Kamui carelessly tosses the towel aside, getting to work on changing out of his clothes. Asra just watches, unabashedly staring as Kamui undresses, taking his usual care to make sure everything is properly folded so it doesn't wrinkle; even though it's going to be washed and handled by people used to dealing with royalty anyway.

He takes everything out of his pockets and stashes them in a drawer nearby, hearing Asra make a soft, amused sound at the sheer amount of things he manages to stash inside his pockets. Along with those items, though, is the emerald. Safe and sound, with everything else he doesn't want to lose.

In just his smallclothes, he retreats back over to Asra. "My turn," he declares, to which Asra raises a brow.

"You're stopping there?" he asks, gesturing towards Kamui's briefs with only his eyes. Kamui scoffs.

"I'm not exactly a fan of having everything just, _hanging_ out, okay?"

"Hmm? I can't relate."

With a soft exhalation of amusement, Kamui grabs another towel, holding it out towards Asra. "Wash me, please, oh Asra dearest?" he sweetly asks, with a smile to go along with his tone.

"I _suppose_ I can do that," Asra responds. However, he ignores the towel entirely, instead drawing the water out of the bowl with a simple wave of his hand. With well-practiced motions he swipes the water over Kamui's body, the liquid gentle and soothing against his pale skin, drawing the filth off of his body.

"Ohhh," Kamui sighs, leaning forward against the table as Asra had before him, a slight shudder passing over him. Taking a deep breath, he adds, "As nice as this is, you know you're missing the perfect opportunity to touch me."

"I wasn't aware I was lacking in opportunities," Asra dryly responds.

Once they're both clean and dry, Kamui slips into the other robe, finding it a touch too large. With a huff he tightens the belt as much as he can before selecting a perfume to lightly coat himself with. Not long after there's a knock on the door, which Asra responds to by opening it with a wave of his hand.

Nadia emerges, dressed in an airy, comfortable outfit that might resemble sleepwear, for royalty anyway. Her tyrian hair is down, sloping elegantly against her shoulders and over her shapely body.

"Looking good, Nadi," Asra compliments. His playful grin almost immediately morphs into a forced look of neutrality, as he averts his eyes. "Nadia," he corrects. At his reaction, Nadia titters softly, curling some of her hair around a finger.

"Well, you _did_ request comfortable dress," she notes. "This is about as relaxed as I get."

"Are we having a slumber party?" Kamui asks, glancing eagerly between the two. It was a joke, one he kinda wanted to be reality. He refrains from mentioning that, unsure where his relationship with Nadia stood.

"Mmm, might as well be," Asra muses.

"I'm afraid I'm not the greatest at slumbering, at the moment," Nadia says, her brows upturned with worry. "I keep having the most peculiar dreams... a goat with red eyes, stalking the halls of the palace, striking the walls with its claws."

The magicians both tense, exchanging glances.

"That... wasn't a dream, I don't think," Kamui says.

"No?" Nadia's eyes widen, glancing between the two magicians with curiosity and concern.

He turns to Asra, prompting him to tell Nadia of Lucio's ghost—or so they assume that's what it is, anyway.

"You believe my late husband still haunts these walls?"

"I can do you one better than that, unfortunately. I _know_ he does, or, rather, that _something_ does," Asra responds. Violet eyes flicker over to Kamui before landing back on Nadia. "The two of you have both confirmed it for me."

"Both...?" Nadia starts, looking curiously down at Kamui.

"I've seen him before. On my first night here," he admits. "I didn't think it was real, to be honest, nor was it very easy to hold on to the memory after it had passed. I apologize."

"No need," Nadia says dismissively. "I don't know that I would have done any differently. However, I must inquire into why exactly we're hoping to contact him."

"We believe his presence is a bit of an omen," Asra says. "Of what, we're not exactly sure. But he seems pretty keen on coming back to life, and we'd like to know why."

"I see," Nadia says, nodding slowly. A small smile graces her features. "I think I'm beginning to understand your plan. Well, then, shall we?" She turns towards the door, her arms raised by the door frame as she peers over her shoulder at them, making her look like she just stepped out of some fancy painting.

Asra nods, following her out into the hallway. Kamui scurries to catch up, reaching for Asra's hand like a lost child in a busy marketplace.

They walk up the steps into the Count's wing, the twin dogs resting at the top, expectant. At Nadia's look of disgust, they immediately begin to wilt, allowing the three to pass without a single word needing to be spoken. Along the hallway leading up to Lucio's bed chambers, all three of them glance along the walls, at the various portraits of the late Count, each one with the eyes gouged out.

"I've had dreams about these," Nadia comments, lightly grazing one of the portraits with painted fingernails. "The goat was shrieking at them, digging at them with his teeth. It went on for days..."

"You've been having these nightmares since you woke up?" Asra asks.

"Yes."

A ghastly wail echoes throughout the halls, keeping her from elaborating. The three tense, going stock still as the sound passes over them. Eyes wide, the Countess says, "You two heard that, didn't you?"

They nod. This was getting eerily similar to the last time Kamui walked these halls. He only hoped no one started to speak to him telepathically.

"He must have been pretty weak," Asra comments, to which Nadia sends him a questioning quirk of her brow. He smiles up at her, the expression helping to put her more at ease. "It took him _days_ to chew a bunch of holes through his paintings. A normal goat could do worse. His tantrums when he was alive were _way_ worse."

They arrive at the door to the bedroom, a faint red glow shining from underneath the doorway, despite how cold the area around it is. Almost chilling, making Kamui wish he'd worn more than a flimsy robe. There's a dragging noise from within, startling the trio into taking a step back, the red glow oozing out from under the door like a puddle of blood.

Exchanging glances, Nadia rushes the door, flinging it open. The interior, recently renovated, is so glaringly red that Kamui has no trouble at all imagining it engulfed in flames. Despite its cleanliness, it gave him even more chills than the hallway leading up to it had. Like there was something there, lurking deep within the shadows.

"How strange," Nadia drawls. "I was in here naught but an hour ago. It wasn't quite like this, then."

Neither magician bothers asking what she means by that. As the door clicks shut behind them, they glance around the room, taking in the sights. Not far from the door, in full view of the bed—interestingly enough—stood a portrait, tall enough to tower over all three of them, even Nadia. Another image of the late Count, yet this one seemed a bit different.

Nadia voices as much. "Even seeing this... it still doesn't strike me as familiar."

Kamui gives her a curious look. "Weren't you married to him?" Belatedly, he worries that the question might come off a bit rude; luckily, she handles it perfectly well.

"There is... little I recognize here, since my awakening," she says.

Frowning, Kamui turns to shoot Asra a look, but he's got his back turned, arranging a few magical items out on the bed.

There was a lot he didn't remember. A lot Nadia didn't remember. Even things Julian didn't remember. There was a theme, here, and it left him wondering; was there anything Asra didn't remember?

With a soft sigh, Nadia turns away from the portrait. Kamui follows suit, catching sight of all the trays of food spread out on the Count's bed, from freshly cooked meats to dripping chocolate desserts. At the top of the bed, Asra rests, legs crossed with his back against the pillows.

"Let's try and connect with the residual positive energy here. Believe me, we weren't always miserable," he says.

"We?" Nadia questions.

"You, me, the Count, and the doctor," he says, to the surprise of both Nadia _and_ Kamui. "Do you have any memory of that?"

"None whatsoever," Nadia admits, her brows furrowed, clearly perturbed by the fact. "And yet... I can picture it so clearly."

Kamui couldn't even begin to imagine that. Not with the current circumstances being the way they were, not when Nadia's presence spelt a threat to Julian's continued existence just an hour earlier. But maybe he was just being pessimistic.

With a smile, Asra turns to Kamui, reaching out with one hand invitingly. "Lucio could never resist a party. So, we're just going to have to have one. Without him."

An arrangement of smug and mischevious grins appear on all their faces. No one even needs to say anything. Kamui strides right over to Asra, taking his hand and curling up on the bed with him, Nadia joining them on the other side. Laid horizontally across the bed, Asra makes a show of stretching out his limbs, Kamui settling in with his head on the smooth expanse of Asra's chest. Nadia rests on her stomach, legs curled, completing the image.

"It's a slumber party, right?" Kamui says, rubbing his cheek across Asra's baby soft skin. "Oh, let's play truth or dare."

Chuckling, Asra says, "Perfect. Lucio always did love a good game of truth or dare."

"Who goes first?"

"Allow me," Nadia says, propping her chin up on her hand. "Kamui, if you please. Truth or dare?"

"Dare, of course."

Her lips curl into an absolutely devilish grin. It was a good look, in Kamui's opinion, promising nothing but trouble. Humming thoughtfully, she glances around the room in search of a good response. "I dare you... to feed Asra some of those grapes. _Sensually_ ," she says, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Kamui mirrors Nadia's grin. "Oh, with pleasure." Pulling up onto his knees, he reaches across Asra for the bowl of red grapes.

"Lucky me," Asra purrs, propping himself up on an elbow. The leg closest to Nadia curls, and Kamui catches a glimpse under the magician's robe before returning, face warming.

Plucking a grape free, Kamui whispers, "You did that on purpose."

"Did what?" Asra innocently asks, fluttering his eyelashes.

Exhaling a laugh, Kamui lightly presses the grape against Asra's lips, feeling them part just wide enough to accept the offering, tongue drawing Kamui's finger in after it. Playing along, he lets the digit linger inside Asra's mouth before slowly pulling it back out, drawing the tip along the line of his bottom lip before reaching for another.

Pressing the next grape against Asra's soft, lightly damp lips, Kamui finds his wrist lightly grasped in Asra's hand, holding him there as a warm tongue laves over his skin. Asra releases him with a soft, hardly platonic-sounding sigh, the look in his eye positively devious.

Kamui's face warms under his intense gaze, and belatedly he realizes that Nadia is still there, watching. The only thing that really served to remind him of such was the sound of her laughing, enthralled by the show they were putting on for her.

_Right. Fun and games._

He flashes the Countess a smile, "How many, Nadia?"

"Mmm, how many is 'some'...?" she muses, pretending to think about it.

"At least three," Kamui suggests, plucking a third grape off the vine, only for Asra to immediately overrule him with, "Six, definitely."

Meeting Asra's playful smirk with one of his own, Kamui chuckles, saying, "Oh? That many, huh?"

"Well, you heard him, Kamui," Nadia says, an excited twinkle in her eye. "He deserves to be spoiled a bit more, don't you think?"

If this was what slumber parties looked like, he'd have to hold a lot more of them in the future.

Moving along with the third through sixth grapes, Asra somehow manages to make each one equally as, or perhaps more arousing than the last. The fact that he would have the guts to moan like that in Nadia's presence, nearly hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked on Kamui's finger was frankly astounding. The fact that the display had Nadia giggling like mad was perhaps even more astounding.

That's when it occurred to him that Nadia and Asra _had_ been friends at some point, even if Nadia no longer remembered, for whatever reason. He probably knew what her limits were, what amused her and what disgusted her. This was obviously the former.

The grape feeding quickly devolved into the three of them sampling as much of the food as they could. It was fairly tame, and yet, a lot of it felt awfully lewd, like the beginning to a lot of adult stories he'd read before in his life.

They were all actively participating; Nadia offered up a section of a frosting-topped dessert for Asra to eat out of her hands, while Kamui sniffed a strange looking fruit before holding it out for Nadia to taste.

At some point Asra had trapped a piece of food between his teeth, leaning over Kamui to get him to taste it. Nadia had giggled, a light blush on her face while the two magicians kissed; Kamui's pulse thrummed, something particularly exciting about the prospect of doing such a thing with an audience.

This was... fun. Probably some of the most fun he'd had in awhile. It made him wonder what it would be like if some of what Asra had said earlier could be true; Nadia, Asra, Kamui, and Julian all together, sprawled out in comfortable silk clothes, feeding each other by hand. It would probably escalate. He had the distinct feeling Julian would get _someone_ to lick chocolate off his chest. It just felt like something he would do.

Asra dips a finger into some chocolate mousse, offering it up for Kamui to lick clean, which he does with the same enthusiasm as he would his own fingers of something much less innocent than pudding. The action has Asra blushing deeply, eyes widening as if he'd never had a sexual experience before in his life.

"Wow," he breathes, as Kamui pulls away with a smirk, licking his lips. With a slight chuckle of disbelief, Asra smiles, asking, "How does it taste?"

"It's indescribable," Kamui says with a slight moan, just to drive Asra positively _wild_.

Asra opens his mouth, but nothing ever makes it out, a ghastly voice screeching through the air. " _AT LEAST DESCRIBE IT!!_ "

Eyes wide, the three pause in their movements to let the sudden, intrusive sound wash over them. Kamui meets Asra's gaze, seeing a playful grin cross his features, amusement dancing in his eyes. It's clear he longs to say something mocking, but holds back, opting instead to ignore what they'd all just heard.

Licking a smidgen of chocolate from her fingertips, Nadia says, "Well, Kamui, I do believe it's your turn."

"Oh, why thank you, Countess," Kamui says, his formality purposefully delivered in a silly way as he holds up his robes in a curtsey. It earns him a bit of a chuckle from Nadia.

Kamui leans over Asra, a hand against the magician's chest to push him deeper into the mattress. A tawny hand reaches up to brush some of Kamui's hair aside; he leans into the touch, Asra's palm warm against his cheek. "Asra. Truth or dare?"

Asra hums in consideration. "Whatever you want."

"I do like the sound of that..." Kamui croons, glancing around the room for inspiration. His eyes land on a wardrobe, pressed up against the wall. "Ohhhh. I dare you to go over to that wardrobe and put on whatever you like the most."

Asra tilts his head backwards to get a look at the wardrobe in question. "Well, if you insist..." With a devious grin, he rolls into a sitting position, crawling off the edge of bed. He pads barefoot over to the armoire, the air growing warmer with each step, and throws open the doors.

" _DON'T YOU DARE!!_ " the voice from earlier cries, reverberating off the walls.

Unphased, Asra coos, "Oh? I've been dared."

Without a care for tidiness, he paws around at the clothing held within, eventually drawing out a long, white fur cape not unlike the one in the portrait. "Whatever I like...? I think I like this one," he says, rubbing the fur against his cheek.

"You would wear it much better," Nadia says. "I can just tell."

The temperature rises sharply at her comment. Ignoring the uncomfortable trickling of magic, like the itch of a healing wound, Asra drapes the cape over his shoulders, posing.

"Mmm... it's a bit too hot for this, isn't it?"

Kamui can't resist. " _You're_ a bit too hot for something so drab," he says. The flames in the nearby lighting fixtures begin to burn brighter.

The fur carelessly drops to the floor in a messy pile. "You're right," Asra says, grinning mischievously. "There never was any accounting for taste with him, was there?" He makes his way back towards the bed, stepping all over the fur on the way there. The light fixtures rattle against the walls.

"I think I'll leave that there," he says, stretching out his back before returning to collapse in the center of the bed, where Kamui immediately sets to petting his hair. "I want to try another one of the Count's favorite games: tarot. Where the rules are made up according to his whims."

Sitting up, Asra reaches in past the folds of his robe, removing his tarot deck from seemingly nowhere, considering the robes had no pockets in them. He shuffles the cards before passing it around to the others in a small, malformed circle for each to shuffle in turn.

"So, what? Are we gonna play Old Maid?" Kamui jokes, watching as Nadia passes the cards back to Asra.

"How about Past, Present, Future?"

Kamui scoffs. "Baby games."

"Because Old Maid is so complex?" Asra teases. Kamui sticks out his tongue, hearing Nadia laugh in the background. While Asra sits cross-legged toward the center of the bed, Nadia with her legs curled off to the side next to him, Kamui lays on his side, head and arms rested in Asra's lap. He watches as Asra pulls three cards from the top of the deck, laying them out on the bed sheets. "Nadia, you go first," he suggests.

With a thoughtful hum, she lays her hand over the one in the top left. "I'll choose this one," she says, flipping to reveal the reversed High Priestess. The sight brings a fond smile to the Countess' face. "Ah. This one was always my favorite."

"You're very intuitive, Countess," Asra says. "I always wondered why you wouldn't use that intuition more often."

"You of all people should understand how dangerous that can be," Nadia responds. Merely seconds afterwards, she winces, covering her forehead behind a hand. There's a dim glow between her fingers that immediately draws Kamui's eye, but when she draws her hand back, there's nothing there. Were his eyes playing tricks?

"Are you alright?" Asra asks.

"It's just a headache," Nadia dismisses.

"Have you been getting those a lot?" She nods. "Ever since you woke up?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Asra hums thoughtfully, as Kamui stares up at her forehead, wondering. His thoughts are quickly dismissed as ridiculous once Asra reaches for the next card, drawing The Devil, upright. Right away it seems almost as if all the life has drained from the room, but; that might just be Kamui's perception.

"The Devil was always Lucio's favorite," Asra says.

"Probably why he had that portrait made of him, in the dining area," Kamui comments, meeting Nadia's eye. "It lost a lot of appeal to me after I realized that."

"I've been thinking of having it removed," she dryly responds.

"It's your palace. You can do whatever you want with it. Paint the whole thing purple, if you want to."

Nadia chuckles. "I'll take that into consideration."

He turns his attention back to Asra to see the magician smiling fondly while watching the two interact. He doesn't comment on it, though, continuing with the reading, before asking Kamui to flip the final card.

Death, reversed. A cold wind howls in his mind, nondescript voices swirling through the noise like tinny gusts of air, but through it all, a low, scraggly voice cuts deep. Without thinking, Kamui allows the voice to speak through him, repeating the words verbatim for everyone else to hear.

"Transformation and change..." Asra says. "Death would have been Lucio's favorite card, if he bothered to understand it."

The candles flicker along the walls, brass frames rattling dangerously. A tension settles deep over Kamui's body, but he ignores it, refuses to let it show to the one he knew had to be watching them right now. Asra doesn't let it show, either, as he continues talking.

"In that portrait," Asra pauses to direct his gaze over to the tall painting in full view of the bed, the others looking over to it as well, "He has Death crushed under his heel. You know why?" He turns back to make eye contact with both Nadia and Kamui in turn. Kamui can feel the hairs prickle on the back of his neck.

"He wanted to conquer Death, because he was terrified of it."

A lot of things happen all at once. Several glass items around the room shatter, the sound echoing throughout the chamber as if it were much larger than it was. The heat grows hot enough for sweat to begin to drip down their backs, the lights flickering on-off sharply as Asra is thrown from the bed, his back crashing roughly into the wall behind him.

"Asra!" Kamui yells, the sound feeling ripped from his throat, like he had no control over it. He gets to his knees, prepared to leap off the bed to rush over to his partner's side, but halts upon seeing Asra's feet dangling off the ground. The magician's hands reach for something unseen, up by his throat, and his eyes catch on Kamui's. There's a silent message being conveyed in those eyes of his, a warning to stay away.

Reluctantly, Kamui heels, settling back on the bed slightly, albeit still prepared to leap at a moment's notice.

" _YOU TAKE THAT BACK!!_ " The ghastly voice wails, anger petulant and almost whiny in it's childishness. It would seem almost hilarious, if not for the way it echoes, bouncing off the walls like a physical force threatening to send the candles toppling to the ground, setting everything ablaze.

Despite that, a smug grin spreads across Asra's otherwise tense face, as he challengingly says, "Is that a dare? Because that's certainly not the truth."

A figure flickers to life, then, before Asra's dangling form, revealing a furry, clawed hand wrapped around Asra's throat, keeping him held off the ground. It takes all of Kamui's willpower not to rush at the entity, to get that horrible goat far, far away from Asra. Only Asra's warning glance keeps him still, thinking; _he knows what he's doing. He knows he'll be okay._

" _Oh, Asra. You were always one of my favorites. So impossible to hate... yet impossible to love._ "

The claw tightens around Asra's throat, right as the magician takes a deep breath, anticipating it. Kamui thinks he recognizes it as a spell, but he isn't quite sure. He hardly has time to think about it before all the candles extinguish at once, casting the room in shadow.

A panicked sound escapes Kamui's throat before he can even recognize it as his own voice. He struggles to light a flame in his hands, an orb of light, a tiny little sparkle, anything. It's suffocating, not being able to reach out to his magic, like the restriction was wrapped tight around his lungs instead. The room was quiet, too quiet, like all of them had stopped breathing.

He reaches blindly through the harsh darkness until his hands land on Nadia's arm. She seems to understand immediately, reaching out to place one of her arms around his waist, steadying him. Not long after an uncomfortably humid gust of wind blows past, and the room is cast in a pale glow. At first he thinks a curtain must have been blown aside, letting in the moonlight overhead—who knows how late it had gotten?—when his eyes catch on the actual source.

Asra's robe has been blown aside, baring his chest in full. Over where his heart would be, right where Kamui so often rested his head or his hand, a symbol glowed bright white, piercing through the darkness, fully illuminating both Asra and the ghostly figure hovering over the front of him. Stunned, all Kamui can do is stare, tracing the shapes and lines that made up the symbol. It looked like something Asra would have drawn, much different from the one he'd seen on Julian's neck, and yet...

It wasn't that different, either.

The voice returns, permeating through the air like a thick fog. For a brief moment Kamui wonders if it's what Lucio sounds like, or something else entirely—maybe a bit of both.

" _Awfully hypocritical of you to judge ME, when you have something like this on your chest_ ," the voice says. " _But, look where it got you. Your_ precious, precious _Kamui is right there with you._ " The voice spits those words out with disgust and irritation; it settles somewhere deep within Kamui, like a poison, a cold sweat breaking out over his body.

 _What does that mean? What does that_ mean??

The claw tightens around Asra's neck; Kamui flinches, a sympathy pain flashing over his throat. He barely notices Nadia's arm tightening around his waist, comforting him.

Asra's eyes are wide, but more from the sight of the mark on his chest than anything the goat is doing to him. He doesn't even look like he's listening as the voice says, " _You're not the only one who can cross between planes._ "

The goat's figure flares, less of a ghostly outline and more of a physical object, fully present in reality. " _Once my body is complete, I'll be able to cross over into your world. And I'll make you pay for forcing me to show myself before I'm ready._ "

Hardly a full second passes after the voice cuts out that the goat's figure twists and vanishes, like ash blown away in the wind. The candles light up, the glow on Asra's chest vanishing as he falls to his knees in a crumpled heap, dragging in a sharp intake of breath.

This time, Kamui immediately throws himself off the bed, practically vaulting over the side of it to drop down by Asra's side. Pale hands hover over Asra's body as the magician pushes himself up to meet his apprentice's worried gaze, a soft smile on his lips.

Kamui's hands settle on his shoulders, feeling the sweat-slick skin there, before flitting around to several other spots in a panic; his neck, uninjured. His heart, still with the lingering trace of magic, _Asra's_ magic, in the exact shape of his mark. That hand remains there, the other hovering inches from Asra's face, the mark, now invisible to the naked eye, distracting him from completing the gesture.

Asra does it for him, pressing Kamui's hand in against his cheek. "I'm alright, Kamui," he says, reaching out with his free hand to brush the hair out of Kamui's face. Several strands are stuck to him, his face nearly drenched from the oppressive heat of the room; which seems to have all-but vanished, now.

"Oh," Kamui breathes, the sound pitched a bit higher than his normal voice, more of a squeak, really. He heaves a breath, struggling to calm himself; Asra was right. He was fine, the claw hadn't even hurt him. Lucio was too weak to do even that properly. "That scared me," Kamui admits. "That scared the _shit_ out of me, Asra, are you really..."

Soft lips press against Kamui's, tasting faintly of salt and the delicacies they'd all been sampling earlier. The gentle, but firm caress of Asra's lips lingers just long enough for the tension to ease out of Kamui's stiff shoulders, his posture relaxing enough for him to sit properly, as opposed to looking like he was prepared to dart from the room. They part with soft sighs, Kamui leaning into the warm hand at his cheek, forehead resting against Asra's.

"It didn't... hurt?" Kamui says, his voice lowered to a near whisper.

"I promise, it didn't," Asra reassures with a smirk. "He's too weak to hurt me."

"Good," Kamui sighs. "Because if he did—"

"You'd kill him, I know," Asra laughs. "If anyone could find a way, it would be you, Kamui." He leans in to press another kiss to Kamui's lips. In return, Kamui's fingers tighten around the back of Asra's neck, not wanting to let him leave.

It's the sound of Nadia's throat clearing that causes them to pull away from each other, startled.

"S-Sorry," Kamui mumbles, avoiding Nadia's crimson gaze.

"No, no. It was quite touching, really," she says. Catching Asra's sheepish smile, Kamui turns fully, seeing Nadia smiling warmly down at the two magicians. "It's very sweet, the concern you have for each other."

Kamui's face warms.

Asra clears his throat, forcing a neutral expression, even as he finds it difficult to meet Nadia's eye. "You... did see all that, right?" he asks.

"The whole thing," Nadia responds, the fondness absent from her voice, worry and dread taking root instead.

 

  
They return to the guest chambers after that, parting with Nadia in the hallway as she retreats to her room, claiming she had a lot to think about.

"I'll have something for the two of you to wear brought to your room," she had said.

Just like before, there are two sets of clothing laid out on the bed before they even make it back to the room. To be fair, they hadn't exactly been hurrying, walking hand-in-hand at a leisurely pace, both lost in thought.

The second the door closes, Kamui slips out of his robe, draping it over the desk nearby. The cool night air was a relief against his overly warm skin; for a moment, he considers opening the doors leading out onto the balcony, but he knows that would quickly become overkill.

He grabs one of the towels left over from earlier to wipe away the sweat clinging to his body, and for a moment it feels as though ash clings to his frame, like some of the goat's horrible magic had gotten stuck on him. Cringing, he reaches for the bowl, now full of fresh water, and uses it to clean his skin, his hair.

After finishing up his makeshift bath, he goes to drag the damp towel over his skin for a second time, but Asra stops him. Sidling up behind him, an arm around his waist, free hand gently tugging the towel free from Kamui's hand. Tossed, without a care, over his shoulder.

"Come to bed," he says, his voice a near whisper, intimate and deep with exhaustion. His bare chest presses into Kamui's back, spreading warmth, a kiss being laid to the back of his neck between still-damp strands of snowy hair.

With a barely audible sigh, Kamui says, "You're sweaty," his tone hard to read. Not quite teasing, not quite a complaint. Not quite anything at all.

With a wave of his hand, Asra pulls all the sweat from his body, evaporating it. "Better?"

"Mmm..."

Kamui turns, coming face-to-face with a very nude Asra, but hardly acknowledging this fact as he presses a hand over Asra's heart. It beats softly against his palm, a gentle _thump_. It feels the way he's used to it feeling; no magic. Just smooth skin.

"You have questions," Asra deduces. Kamui shifts his gaze up to meet his eyes, seeing the magician looking elsewhere, nowhere in particular, expression uncomfortable, avoidant.

"Mmm," Kamui hums, leaning their foreheads together. He traces a shape into Asra's chest, as if he could still remember exactly where each line of the mark laid on his skin. He couldn't; of course not. All he says is, "I've seen something like this before."

That clearly wasn't what Asra expected to hear, his eyes going wide as he turns to look at Kamui directly. "Where?"

The hand on his chest shifts to his neck, fingers brushing over his throat. "Julian," Kamui says, letting the syllables linger for a moment before explaining further. Taking the time to study Asra's reaction, the puzzlement in his creased brows. Absently, he continues petting Asra's neck.

"I saw it, the night that we were—well, you know. He told me you gave it to him. I knew right away that wasn't true," Kamui explains.

"I didn't even know," Asra says. There's a hint, hardly noticeable, of desperation to his voice, like he thought Kamui really did suspect Asra had something to do with it. But he'd never once faltered in his belief that Asra couldn't have, wouldn't have. Not even now. Not for a second.

"Yours is familiar to me. His is just..." _Wrong?_ "...strange."

He moves his hand back over Asra's heart. "Do you... I mean, does it... I don't want to pry. This must be something personal, I just... does it do anything? When Julian's mark flared, it was because it did something. He uses it to heal people, taking their wounds onto his own body, temporarily. But yours just... I mean, did something happen?"

There's no response. Kamui tears his eyes away from Asra's chest, finding the magician looking distracted, brows furrowed. It was hard to tell what exactly he was thinking.

Kamui decides not to ask, taking a step back; there's no resistance, the magician's hands sliding from his body, limp. He looks over to the bed, where Faust is slithering between the two sets of clothing, observing the fabrics. It's easy to see what's meant for who; a bold red shirt and snow white pants rest in a neatly folded pile alongside pale lilac and ivory.

"Let's get dressed," he says, directing them away from the previous topic, sensing that Asra must not want to talk about it anymore. There's a hum of acknowledgement in response, but not much else.

Kamui lifts up the red [fabric](https://66.media.tumblr.com/fb0e83d6a14a27f2eaf49f728d25f463/tumblr_px4057JArO1qi7tzho1_1280.png), feeling the soft cotton glide over his skin. It looks like a robe, with loose sleeves reaching elbow length, a ribbon resting below the edge of one flap. It wasn't really a robe at all, just made with the collar of one.

Following his appraisal, he slips it on, feeling the black fur of the interior warming his skin. It reaches his mid-thigh. The white pants come next, loose and airy with bands around the ankles, not too tight.

He turns to see Asra slipping into his, notably devoid of any underwear to go with it. His top is much longer, the pale lavender dress reaching his ankles, with slits along the sides. There's a colorful embroidery along the dipping neckline, as well as the edges of the sleeves, which hang loosely several inches above the wrist. The pants, however, are nearly identical to Kamui's. Something about that has him smiling.

"You're so pretty, Asra," Kamui compliments, hushed, subdued, reaching out to run a hand through his snowy curls, impossibly soft. As expected, Asra's cheeks color, but he manages a chuckle, however quiet it may be.

"Are you going to say that every time I change my clothes, from now on?"

"Yes," Kamui says. "Other times, too." His hand drifts down from Asra's curls to the side of his neck. "Like in the Count's bedroom. When you were laid out beneath me, looking so comfortable yet so insufferably smug. I like that look on you a lot, actually."

Asra smirks, assuming exactly the expression Kamui was talking about. "I know," he says, sounding incredibly smug about it. With a scoff, Kamui gives him a light shove against the shoulder.

Chuckling, Kamui says, "Ohhhh, you _brat_." Asra grins, laughing along with him. "Oh, you're gonna get it."

"Oh yeah? What am I gonna get?"

Giggling, Kamui rushes at Asra, tackling him around the waist. He does nothing to stop it as he's lifted up off the ground just to be deposited on the bed, Kamui falling down on top of him. Immediately after getting properly settled, Kamui draws Asra into a kiss, lightly nibbling on his bottom lip. His hands roam down Asra's sides, back and forth.

Pulling away for air, he confesses, "I just want to touch you, all the time. Is that bad?"

"No," Asra responds, arms curling up over Kamui's shoulderblades. "I crave it, too." His blush deepens, and Kamui bites his lip, gazing longingly down at his partner's face. With a small smile, Asra adds, "You're going to do it again, aren't you?"

Predictably, Kamui says, "You're gorgeous. A true visage of beauty that few could ever hope to gaze upon—"

Asra dives upwards to nip at Kamui's jaw, startling him and drawing a low, breathless chuckle. He can feel Asra's heart thudding beneath his palm, without even realizing he'd moved his hand there, beneath the low collar of his dress. It serves to remind him of the depth of Asra's affection for him, that his heart would pound like this when they were together. He can feel his cheeks warming at the thought, while Asra's lips press into his jaw, working slowly up towards his ear, where he draws the lobe between his teeth. A soft sound makes its way out of Kamui's throat at that, and he melts, feeling one of Asra's hands tugging lightly at his hair. Asra hums lowly by his ear, a shudder wracking his body at the sound of it.

"As I recall..."

Teeth dig into a spot behind Kamui's ear, not far from the lobe. It sends a spark of electricity through his body, and he moans, clinging to Asra's front. A hand threads into his hair, brushing aside pale strands while tilting his head at an angle. Asra bites down harder, sucking a mark into Kamui's skin; he can't help the whiny noises he makes in response to it.

After Asra pulls away, he spends time drawing his tongue over the mark, soothing the sting. Kamui bites his lip, whimpering. "Oh, you're cheating. You're playing dirty."

Asra blows cold air over the mark. "The sounds you make are what's dirty," he says lowly, right over Kamui's ear. Kissing the spot between Kamui's ear and cheekbone, he whispers, "Filthy."

"We're going to end up defiling these nice clothes Nadia just got for us," Kamui says, his tone simpering.

Asra just laughs, leaning up toward Kamui's ear again. In a low, salacious tone of voice, he says, "I thought you said ' _every night_ '?"

Kamui's eyes widen. "O-Oh," he stutters, feeling one of Asra's hands trailing low down on his back.

"Is that okay? We don't have to." His hand stills, waiting for permission. Instinctively, Kamui thinks to say something like ' _Don't stop_ '. But then it occurs to him, like a ton of bricks crashing down around him—

_Julian._

Kamui gasps, sitting up suddenly. "Wait, we have somewhere to be," he exclaims. Straddling Asra's hips, he balances on his hands, glancing around the room; where were his shoes? "I—I forgot, I told Portia we'd go back to escort you-know-who out of the palace."

"Oh," Asra says. He glances around the room as well, noting the location of his bag and boots, which are looking newly polished. "You told her _we_ would?"

"Well—I was hoping you would go with me. It'll take us late into the night, so I was thinking we could just sleep at the shop instead. Julian could sleep in the kitchen, or something, there's lots of pillows in there..."

"Wait. Hold on." Asra props himself up on his elbows, to which Kamui leans back, giving him more room. "You want to hide him in the shop?"

"Just for tonight. He's not moving in."

He expects a lot of protest, maybe an argument. Instead, there's a sigh, and then, "I won't stop you. Just be careful."

"Okay. Well... do you want to go? You don't have to, but I'll miss you if I have to sleep in our bed all alone."

"Ilya and I don't exactly have the best relationship," Asra says, a shadow falling over his eyes. He looks away, forcing the storm in his expression to calm. "I think it would be best if you went to see him by yourself."

Kamui's heart drops. "Oh." For some reason, it wasn't the reaction he expected. "Are you worried he'll be upset with you?"

"It's... messy," Asra says.

That should be where it ends. Where Kamui relents, leaves the room, escorts Julian out, comes back tomorrow to return to Asra. But something's got him staying, something in him telling him to  _persist_ , and he's not one to ignore his intuition.

What was it? Did he think there was more to it? Did he  _want_ there to be more to it?

It hits him suddenly. After all he'd heard about their relationship, whatever it had been; it all put Asra in a pretty bad light. He wanted to think that Asra wasn't like that. He did so much for Kamui that he didn't have to do, teaching him to walk again, to talk again. It was impossible to imagine an Asra that wasn't like this; that was cold, distant, and unfeeling. That would only pay attention to him because it was fun for him, that didn't care how he felt, who considered him a  _mistake_ , a  _bad idea_ , an  _impulse_ , and not a person that he loved and cherished and held deep into the night as sobs wracked his body, combing his hair and feeding him by hand and telling him he was perfect, beautiful, nothing wrong with him—

To think that he saw Julian as someone to use and ignore, because it's  _easy_ , because there were no consequences, because he didn't  _care_ —that wasn't him. It couldn't be him.

Was that it? He'd never given it much thought, not beyond the initial confrontation; like his mind  _refused_ , wouldn't allow him to consider that Asra might not be perfectly kind and loving. He didn't want to think about it. He saw it with his own two eyes, and still it felt like it wasn't real. Easy to discard, to ignore, to forget. He'd known Asra his whole life, the part of it he remembers anyway; could it be that there was a side to him he never knew?

It must seem out of nowhere, but Kamui just—has to know. "Did you ever love him?"

Amethyst eyes widen with shock. "I—What?" They narrow, frowning, and Asra shakes his head. "Kamui, we already talked about this. There was nothing between us, just a lot of... bad ideas."

"But..." Kamui starts, immediately losing his train of thought—but what? But  _didn't you feel something for him?_ But  _didn't you care about him?_ But  _didn't you ever treat him kindly?_

But  _aren't you a better person than that?_

'Chewed up and spit out'—that sounded like a monster, an  _evil witch_ , not Asra. Kind, sweet, caring Asra. Was everything Julian said just melodrama?

Hands brush past his cheeks, and without thinking he leans into them, raising a hand to press one tighter against his face. It was warm, soft, like him. Like the person who flooded his chest with warmth, with affection. Who held him and stroked his hair and made him tea when he was upset.

Did Asra ever do any of those things for Julian? Was it ever like that, or was it just...

"You have that look on your face again," Asra says, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. Pale hands grasp the front of his dress. "You're thinking too deeply about this, Kamui. I know how you feel about him, but we never had what you two did."

"Did you ever want to?" he asks. The question has Asra's body tensing, shoulders stiff, a flash of surprise in his eyes. It calms, an attempt being made to steady his expression, like he didn't care, like they were just discussing the weather.

"Maybe he did," Asra says, cold.

 _Deflection_.

"I didn't ask if he did. I asked if  _you_ did."

Brows creasing into an expression Kamui has a hard time reading, Asra sighs. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Yes, you do," Kamui says firmly, feeling his expression harden. "I want you to tell me the truth."

"I like  _you_ ," Asra stresses. "Only you. I'm not harboring secret feelings for a man I used to sleep with, Kamui."

His words hit Kamui like an arrow through the chest.

 _Secret feelings. A man I used to sleep with_.

"It wouldn't be wrong if you did," he says, a notable edge of trepidation to his voice. He isn't sure who he's trying to convince; Asra, or himself. He swallows past a lump in his throat, suddenly finding it really difficult to look his partner in the eyes. "Feelings are... they just happen. I wouldn't be upset if you still liked him, I mean, I..." _I do_. "It wouldn't mean you don't like me anymore."  _It doesn't mean I don't like you anymore_.

A soft sigh, drawing Kamui's eyes back up towards Asra, catching the look of sympathy on his face. Those beautiful, violet eyes of his, seeing right through him. "Oh, Kamui," he says, leaning forward to pull Kamui closer to him, embracing him. He goes willingly, feeling something start to break inside of him, his fingers digging into the back of Asra's shoulders. "This isn't about me at all, is it? You could have told me you had feelings for him, I wouldn't have minded at all. Well—Not about you liking someone else. Your taste leaves something to be desired, but..."

That startles a laugh out of Kamui. "Oh, shut up." He hears the sound of Asra exhaling a laugh, feels the imprint of a smile as Asra settles in against his neck. Despite that, he feels... "You're not... mad? Or disgusted, or upset?"

" _No_ ," Asra emphatically says. "You have a big heart, Kamui. It's never belonged to just one person. I trust you, and I know this doesn't mean anything bad for the two of us."

"You... oh." That... wasn't what he was expecting. He expected hurt, that Asra would think they were breaking up, that he would have to choose. Definitely that he would have to be making a choice, and... he didn't want to. He didn't want to do that to either of them, even if he was already resigning himself to forgetting about Julian. Maybe he could do that, maybe it would all work out just fine, for the rest of their lives. But. Right now, he didn't want that, didn't want to leave either of them alone.

"Kamui," Asra starts, pulling his apprentice out of his thoughts. "Do you want him?"

Kamui chews on the inside of his cheek. Rests his head on Asra's shoulder, straightens out his back, feeling their chests press together. Warm, comfortable, safe. Thinks about—about Julian, the way his chest felt when Kamui would lay his head on it, about Julian lifting him up, holding him tight in his arms, protecting him, enveloping him. His heart pounds, face warming. He tightens his arms.

"I do," he admits. "Is that selfish? I really, really like both of you, I can't help it."

"You're not  _selfish_. It's like you said, feelings just happen. I'm not mad at you." To further emphasize that statement, he pulls Kamui tighter against his chest, trailing kisses up the side of his neck. In response, Kamui chuckles, tilting his head to give Asra more room.

Pulling away with a smile, Asra glances behind him, at the balcony doors, stars twinkling overhead. "It's getting late," he says, pulling away. "Ilya's waiting for you."

"Go with me," Kamui says, grabbing both of Asra's hands. "You don't have to talk to him, but I don't like the thought of leaving you here alone."

"I'm not going to lay around worrying about what you're doing and whether you still like me, Kamui. I'm not Ilya." He sounds joking when he says it, but Kamui hears it, the hint of something else. Whether it's disdain or not remains to be seen, he supposes.

"I don't like waking up without you there next to me," Kamui says. Brows furrowing, he gazes into Asra's eyes, seeing the hint of something almost guilty that flashes within them. With a sigh, Asra leans forward, catching Kamui's lips in a kiss.

"You're spoiled," he croons, inches away from Kamui's mouth. "I'll go."

Kamui grins, diving in for a more lingering kiss. "Thank you, Asra."

After sneaking in a few kisses, the two get to their feet, tracking down shoes and other personal items. Faust sleepily climbs into Asra's satchel while he slips into his boots, Kamui digging through the drawers to put the emerald back around his neck. Everything else could wait, in his opinion. After tying up the laces on the back of his boots—with Asra's assistance, and, oh but he really didn't need to kiss the back of his thigh when he did that—they step out onto the balcony.

Without hesitation Asra climbs over the edge of the railing, maintaining a graceful balance. He stands tall, holding out a hand for Kamui. Excited and curious, Kamui grabs his hand, pulling himself up to stand alongside him, ankles crossed.

"Do you trust me, Kamui?"

"Completely," he responds, without a second thought.

Asra's lips quirk, an eyebrow raised. "Really? I could just push you off this balcony."

"And I could set your clothes on fire with my mind," Kamui shoots back, to which Asra lets out an amused puff of air.

"Oh? Remind me never to cross you."

Holding out both hands for Kamui to take, Asra threads their fingers together, turning toward the door and taking a step back off the edge of the railing. They fall together, adrenaline surging through Kamui's body as the wind whips through his hair, lifting his shirt to expose his midriff. The intense speed lasts merely seconds before it starts to slow, delivering them to a gentle float. Their bare feet touch the grass even more carefully than if they were walking normally.

Still, Kamui's arms and legs wobble, forcing Asra to catch him before he can fall over. It passes before too long, taking a good majority of the adrenaline with it.

"I think I want to do that again," Kamui says, eyes alight with excitement, to which Asra just laughs, a knowing look in his eye.

"Some other time," he says. It sounds like a promise.

Hand-in-hand, Kamui leads them into the courtyard, using the route he took earlier to find his way around. They pause for a moment as Kamui gets his bearings.

"This is where the portal took us," Kamui says, hushed. He turns back to look at Asra. "This was like your own little napping spot, huh. It's got your mark all over it..."

A lot of things had happened in this courtyard, meaningful things; using the fountain to contact Asra, where he first stepped into the magician's gateway. Over to the willow tree, his name carved into the side with a fine dusting of familiar magic, revealing the first of several links into his past. This was where Asra used to sleep, where he came to relax, where he established a portal just to get back to it—like Julian had said, ' _your precious tree_ '... how romantic. It was as though Asra had claimed all of this for himself.

Nodding, Asra's eyes land on the willow tree, down to where the leaves brush the fountain water. Relinquishing his hold on Kamui's hand, he steps away, kneeling down around the side of the tree, fingertips brushing over the the carving. Kamui kneels down beside him.

"I remember when I did this," he says, sounding miles away. He remains silent for awhile, fingers tracing the indentations. Kamui longs to ask him what he's thinking, but knows he won't get a solid answer. Never does. It's almost startling when Asra speaks again, the silence so easy to fall into at this time of night. "I could heal it."

That snaps him back to attention. "No, don't," Kamui protests, an edge of panic to his tone, like he thought Asra might already be halfway done removing it. Asra turns to him in surprise, quickly drawing his hand away from the carving.

"You don't want me to?"

Kamui shakes his head. "It's important," he says. "And romantic. Like in the storybooks. When lovers would carve their names into a tree, like, Kamui plus Asra, in a little heart."

With a soft chuckle, Asra says, "Do you want to add that on?"

He smiles, but shakes his head again. "I don't want to mess with it. Maybe we could add one higher up, though." He tilts his head to look up at Asra, a devious grin spreading across his face. "Or we could carve it into Lucio's bed post."

Asra lets out an amused huff. "Oh, he would hate that. But you know what he would hate even more?"

"If we made love in his bed?"

" _Not_ what I was going to say, but I'm very not surprised to hear you say that," Asra laughs. "I was going to say we could carve our names into his portrait."

"Ohhh! Evil," Kamui squeals, absolutely delighted. "I love it. Let's do it."

"Maybe later," Asra says, grinning playfully down at his apprentice. It isn't a refusal, Kamui notes.

They get back up afterwards, Kamui leading Asra down the path he remembered taking to get there the first time. Nearing the edge of Portia's cottage, Kamui uses both hands to part a section of leaves, holding them open for Asra, who smirks up at him as he passes, ducking beneath the foliage. Quickly moving up to join him, he finds Asra stood still, taking in the sights.

"Wow," Asra breathes. His eyes rake over the entirety of the garden, overflowing with various leafy plants and the occasional cluster of flowers. There's a cactus tree along the edge that draws his attention in particular, and he almost drifts off to it before seeming to remember where he is and who he's with.

"Pretty, right? I knew you'd like it," Kamui says, swelling with a bit of pride at his accuracy. It was about time he got to show Asra something nice, instead of the other way around. "It's even nicer during the day. This place gets a lot of sun, and a lot of shade, too."

Asra turns back to Kamui with a soft smile. "I'd love to see it."

"Maybe we can visit again tomorrow," Kamui suggests. "Then you can get to know Portia better. She's goofy and likes mischief and is constantly ragging on Julian."

"Ah, a friendship made in heaven."

Resisting the urge to grab his hand, Kamui leads Asra farther in up the path. The area isn't _massive_ , by any means, but it's enough that they aren't seen until they're much closer to the front steps.

The first to notice them is Pepi, who catches sight of Kamui and immediately darts over to him. It was quite possible they wouldn't have attracted further attention at all, if not for the overly-loud squeal that escapes Kamui's throat at the sight of her.

"Pepi!!" he shouts, kneeling down to hold the Siamese as she hops up onto his bent legs, purring loudly. Raising to his feet, he sways only slightly without his arms to steady himself, too busy wrapping them around Pepi, who rubs her forehead all over his chest, getting cat hair everywhere.

Not long after, he hears, "...Kamui?", in a voice that distinctly isn't Asra's, too deep, too throaty, too accented. He catches sight of the voice's source, standing by the front door, a black leather boot already halfway up the steps. He looks surprised to see him.

His smokey eye shifts, landing on something to Kamui's right. Surprise morphs into a tense, guarded expression at the sight of Asra sidling up next to Kamui, reaching out to rub Pepi under the chin. She takes to him immediately, rubbing her face all over his hand.

"Hello, Ilya," Asra says, his tone neutral. It just comes out as forced and unnatural in Kamui's ears, like he wasn't sure how to sound, so he avoided sounding like anything at all.

A cynical sounding laugh comes out of Julian's mouth on exhale. "Asra. I didn't think you'd ever actually show your face in front of me again."

"I wasn't avoiding you, Ilya."

"You... You weren't?" Julian's brows crease as he attempts to process this information. With a scoff, he moves away from the front steps, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's funny. You sure got pretty hard to reach all of a sudden."

"I have a busy life. So did you," Asra says. "You know I wouldn't have turned you away."

" _Do_ I know that?" Julian scoffs. Then, it seems to occur to him exactly what Asra had said, his eye widening in surprise. "You wouldn't have? Wait, what does that mean?"

"You know what it means," Asra says, looking more to Pepi now than anything else, focused entirely on where his hand glides over the top of her head, much to the feline's delight.

"That's the thing. I have no clue what that means. I thought so many things of you that weren't true, how am I supposed to keep guessing?"

Asra's eyes twitch, narrowing. He keeps his lips pressed firmly together, and Kamui can see the way his shoulders tense, how he glances outside the clearing, flighty.  _He wants out of this conversation_ , Kamui realizes. Quick to give him an escape, Kamui opens his mouth to speak, but Asra beats him to it.

"I'm sorry, Ilya."

Two sets of eyes turn to fixate on him, stunned, while the magician refuses to look at either of them.

"I... What?" Julian stammers. "Did I hear that correctly? You're _sorry_?" His look of confusion warps into a sneer, tone turning distinctly bitter. "About what, cursing me? Or everything else?"

"I didn't curse you," Asra says.

"You... didn't?" Julian frowns, the sharp tone of his voice withering away. "If not you, then who did?"

"I don't know, Ilya. But it doesn't have anything to do with me." He pauses, exhaling a sigh. "I'm a bit worried that you'd think that of me. I know we didn't leave off on good terms..."

"An understatement," Julian says through his teeth. "As I recall, you said—"

"It was a lie."

"Oh, don't I know it?" Julian groans. "All just one big lie."

"No, not that." Asra sighs, shaking his head. "Ilya, do me a favor? Stop talking."

With a tired sigh, Julian remains silent, head turned towards the various plants scattered about the front of Portia's cottage. Asra glances to Kamui, who looks bewildered by everything that's happening, giving a soft smile before averting his gaze. He watches the wind rustle the leaves out in the foliage nearby, letting the calm of nature wash over him. His hand twitches in Kamui's direction, their fingers brushing, but nothing more.

It's silent for awhile, before eventually Asra speaks up again. "I was lying when I told you it meant nothing," he says softly.

Eye wide with shock, Julian's head snaps in Asra's direction. His lips part, but no sound comes out, speechless, incidentally continuing to obey Asra's request to remain silent.

"It was getting... too intense," he continues. "It just seemed easier for you to hate me."

Julian makes a sound, but produces no actual words. His lips press tightly together, teeth digging into one side. Hope and disbelief are at war on his face, unsure what to think or feel, what he should be _allowed_ to feel.

"You're... you mean that?" Julian croaks. Maybe it's a trick of the light, but his visible eye looks a bit watery.

"I do," Asra says, forcing himself to meet Julian's eye. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that kind of cruelty."

Lips flapping uselessly, all Julian can manage to produce is a choked out, "Oh," followed up not long after with a wavering, "Hmm." He frowns, worrying his lip between his teeth, gaze aimed off somewhere in the distance, lost in thought. Processing. "You really... I mean, you... What does that all mean, exactly? I really don't want to get stuck assuming even more things about you that aren't true."

"I... at the end... no, even earlier than that... I could have... if I hadn't had so much else on my mind, I could have loved you. Or maybe I already did. I never allowed myself to think about it."

Kamui turns to stare at him in shock.  _I was... I was right?_

_It wasn't just about me at all!_

Julian makes a choking sound, hastily moving to clear his throat. "You—I, you..." he stutters, face turning bright red. "You l..." He trails off with a shuddering breath, nearly suffocating on that single syllable, "W-Wait, hold on."

Exhaling in mild amusement, Asra's lips quirk upwards, and he tilts his head in Julian's direction. "Hmm? What's the matter, Ilya?"

"Wasn't there... I always thought the reason you were so distant was because... there was always someone else, wasn't there? Someone you were—"

"Ilya," Asra says firmly, cutting off whatever he'd been about to say. His eyes shift to focus on Kamui, tilting his head in the apprentice's direction. "You've met my apprentice."

If possible, Julian's face turns an even deeper shade of red. "Uh. You could say that. Why...." Trailing off, he glances back and forth between the two magicians, suddenly noticing how close they're standing, the lack of distance between their hands, the way they lean towards each other like they crave the contact. "You're together," he concludes. "It was... It was him? This whole time...?"

Asra looks over at Kamui, a silent apology in his eyes. Apologizing for revealing this information a bit early, perhaps, when Kamui might have otherwise had plans for it. He didn't, and to be frank, he was glad he didn't have to have this conversation. A finger curls around one of his, tentative, questioning, and he moves his hand to clasp around Asra's. It felt nice to finally have a bit of contact back; Kamui was a little addicted to it.

"There was so much going on," Asra says, brushing his thumb across the back of Kamui's hand. He looks away, focusing more on Julian. "We couldn't be together, so I... I'm sorry, Ilya."

"I know," Julian sighs. "Or, well, I suspected as much. I didn't care, at the time. Didn't think too far ahead, really, at how you'd leave me the second you could get who you really wanted. I thought... I thought maybe you could... love me instead." He turns away, running a hand through his hair as an excuse to hide behind something, skin burning all the way to his ears. Swallowing through a lump in his throat, he continues, "I'm sure I got very annoying. Always clinging to you, like a leech."

"Well... maybe," Asra says. "Sometimes I think I was more annoyed at myself than at you. It was just easier to pin it on you, to help keep up that distance. I felt like I was betraying him otherwise."

"I can't believe this," Kamui says, drawing the attention of the other two. Julian looks at him like he'd forgotten he was there at all, so focused on Asra that Kamui had faded into the background. "' _Thinking too deeply_ '—I was right. You two have feelings for each other. Or had, at the very least."

He feels Asra's hand tighten around his, a brief squeeze like he'd been about to fall over. When he goes to look, he finds Asra's face tinted red, his eyes averted sheepishly. Turning toward Julian shows his gaze fixed on Asra, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. There's a whole war of emotion on his face, like he isn't sure what to settle on.

"I don't want to get in the way of what the two of you have," Julian says. "This is all... in the past, now. I'm happy for you, and you don't need to worry about me, so—"

"Wait," Kamui interrupts, drawing the doctor's attention back to him. "It—It doesn't have to be." He turns back to look at Asra, who returns his gaze with a knowing look, releasing his hold on Kamui's hand. Biting his lip, Kamui quickly leans in to kiss Asra's cheek, wanting, no, needing him to  _know_. The look on Julian's face, at that, is stricken, but he tries to play it off, looking away and clearing his throat behind a hand.

After passing Pepi over to Asra, Kamui crosses the distance between them, his steps wide and quick enough that Julian takes a reflexive step back; like it was an attack, or something.

"In the library, you asked me what I would have you do. Well, I... if I could change my answer?" Kamui starts, searching Julian's expression for anything negative, some sign that he should back out of this while he still had his dignity. There's nothing, nothing but encouragement in the hopeful spark in Julian's eye. "I would have you give yourself to me," Kamui says.

Julian looks down at him in shock. His gaze cycles back and forth between the two magicians, like this was a joke, like it was some out of nowhere betrayal; like Asra would be looking at Kamui with hurt in his eyes, like they weren't on the same page. "I... I don't understand," he says helplessly.

"I want you, Julian. I want Asra, too; I want both of you." Kamui takes a step closer, reaching up to lay his hand on Julian's chest. The doctor's breath catches, leaning slightly forward against Kamui's hand, something pitiful in his eye as he watches the apprentice. "Does that bother you?"

"No," comes Julian's immediate response. Kamui can't help but smile at his eagerness. "Not—Not at all. I... would you really...? I'm hearing this all correctly, right? This isn't just a really vivid hallucination I'm having? Oh, I can see it now, Pasha will come back and I'll be talking to a bunch of squirrels—"

Kamui cuts him off, hands digging into his blouse and pulling him down to eye-level. A surprised noise escapes Julian's throat before lips are pressing firm against his, yet more sounds escaping, surprised and needy, muffled against Kamui's mouth. It isn't long at all before Julian is reciprocating, hands pressed against either side of Kamui's neck, holding onto him with an edge of desperation. Slowly Kamui wraps his arms around Julian's neck, carding a hand through auburn curls, reveling in the sounds Julian makes in response. He can feel his body burning up, at every point of contact between them, and more, down the collar of his shirt, heat pooling low in his stomach. It was all a lot more intense than he expected, and he loves it.

He pulls away with some difficulty—both in his own reluctance to pry himself away from Julian, and in Julian's reluctance to let him leave, trying to chase after his lips, eager for more. As much as Kamui would love to kiss him until they both run out of air, this isn't the time or place for that. Smiling, he presses a finger to Julian's lips, halting him. Both of his hands move to wrap around Kamui's hand, his wrist, silver eye fixed on red. There's a dazed look in Julian's eye, a look of utter devotion that drives Kamui wild. Breath hitching, he reaches up to brush Julian's hair aside, caressing his cheek, feeling him lean into the touch.

Kamui smiles. "Tell me you will," he says, his voice hushed, keeping this between the two of them. It takes Julian a second to remember what he's talking about, just nodding a lot instead as his mind catches up to reality.

"I will," he says, no hesitation. "I'll give you anything you want."

"I want _you."_

"Then you'll have me," Julian says with a smile, turning his head to press a kiss to the palm of Kamui's hand. He interlaces their fingers together, looking happier than Kamui thinks he's probably ever seen him. Their foreheads press together, and Kamui's uncertain on who initiated the move more. Julian's breaths are hot and uneven against Kamui's skin. "I missed you. I'm sorry I ever told you to leave, it was a mistake."

Wrapping his arms around Julian's shoulders, he says, "I know. You can make it up to me later."

A devilish grin spreads over Julian's features. "Oh, I will," he purrs.

Pulling away from each other, Kamui turns in search of Asra, hoping he isn't feeling too left out. The spot he had been standing in is empty, and for a second Kamui fears he left, a surge of panic rising in him before spotting a head of fluffy white hair among the leaves.

"Asra?"

With a soft hum, the magician turns, Kamui taking a step closer to find out what he was doing. He finds him on his knees, in the leaves, petting Pepi who rolls around enthusiastically, nesting the air with her paws. There's a sheepish look on Asra's face as he says, "Oh, are you done? It was getting a little embarrassing..." He looks up over Kamui's shoulder, watching Julian blush, flustering as he realizes he'd just done all that with an audience. "Really, Ilya, the noises you make..."

"Right! So I'll just go dig my own grave now," Julian says, turning on his heel to head towards the cottage. Kamui laughs, hurrying after him with Asra not far behind.

Waiting for Portia to return, the three seat themselves on the log bench around the side of Portia's cottage, Kamui in the middle for peace-keeping purposes. It was surprising that she hadn't turned up already—Kamui supposes they'd arrived much earlier than expected.

While Julian attempts to pass the time telling a tale of his time aboard a pirate ship, Asra leans his head on Kamui's shoulder, their hands clasped together on top of Asra's thigh. Kamui's other arm wraps around Julian's waist, encouraging him to sit closer as well, and eventually, the man leans his head on Kamui's. It takes a while for him to actually relax, like he thought the closeness unwelcome, but no one ever tells him to move. So he gets comfortable, leaning heavily into Kamui's side, craving the touch, the warmth of another body. They remain like that for awhile, cuddling and enjoying the cool night air as Julian talks. It's comfortable, being settled between the two, their hair tickling his skin, his body pleasantly warm. He quickly finds his eyelids growing heavy, burning with exhaustion.

It's around the time he starts to really drift off, his eyes long since having fallen shut as he leans his head on Julian's chest, that the sound of footsteps in the dirt enters his periphery. His eyes flutter open, Julian raising his head to look alongside Kamui.

Portia stands not far from the bench, a hand on the side of the cottage, looking absolutely delighted as she regards the trio. "Well, aren't you three just so adorable," she coos.

" _Pasha_ ," Julian complains, embarrassed. She just giggles in response.

"The guards are changing their rotations now. I'd say you have maybe fifteen minutes of leeway before it becomes a problem again."

"Thanks, Portia," Kamui says, fighting back a yawn. He turns to look down at Asra, finding the magician resting his head on Kamui's shoulders, breaths evened out. Fast asleep.

_Cute._

"Is he asleep?" Julian asks, lowering his voice to be more considerate of the slumbering magician. Kamui just nods, careful not to jostle him. He wasn't a light sleeper by any means, but it wasn't difficult to rouse him, either.

"Ohhh, cute," Portia whispers, leaning in to get a better look. "He looks so peaceful."

"Do you think we could come back here tomorrow?" Kamui asks, matching Portia's volume. She had spoken the quietest thus far, making Kamui feel like he needed to step it up, or rather, down. "I want him to see the garden during the day."

"Oh, sure," Portia agrees, nodding. "Just let me know when."

She heads inside the cottage, Pepi close at her heels. Julian makes a move to get up, keeping an eye on Asra, as if he could possibly jostle the bench enough to wake him.

"Do you need help...?"

"It's okay. I'll just wake him," Kamui says, to which Julian nods, slowly. He remains on the edge of the bench, watching as Kamui gently combs his fingers through Asra's curls. It's enough for the magician to turn his head, cheek rubbing across Kamui's sleeve, a sleepy sound parting his lips. Kamui leans forward as best he can to plant a kiss to Asra's forehead. That brings a small smile to his face.

Soft white eyelashes flutter open. He looks a touch confused before remembering where he is, his eyes landing on Julian, his smile growing more devious. "Stop staring at me like that, Ilya."

Kamui turns to look, catching the dreamy look on Julian's face before it vanishes, turning more flustered instead. He coughs behind a hand, forcing a smile and returning eye contact. He presses a hand over his chest. "Me? Staring? Perish the thought. I'm a perfect gentleman."

Exhaling in amusement, Asra turns his head, nuzzling his apprentice's arm.

After explaining to Asra that it's time for them to leave, he nods, rising to his feet with the other two. He takes the time to stretch out his back, making sleepy noises. Kamui's too busy staring at the line of his body to notice Julian is doing the same.

The two magicians lead Julian out through the foliage, carefully avoiding running into anyone on their way out of the palace. It doesn't prove to be an issue, though, the path perfectly clear for them to make it out through the gardens.


	8. The Hermit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please read the tags

"Are you sure about this?" Julian starts, glancing anxiously up at the sign hanging next to the shop's front door. "I have other places to go, I'm sure you don't need to be hiding a fugitive. I don't want the neighbors to see me with you, either, what if they turn you in? I don't—"

"I just keep hearing this voice," Kamui says, leaning in Asra's direction as the magician unlocks the door for them. "It sounds so familiar."

"What does it say?" Asra asks, pretending to be mystified.

"I don't know, I can't make out the words."

"Haha, very funny," Julian sarcastically gripes. "Really, Kamui, I don't—"

"Julian, I'll drag you bodily into this shop if that's what it takes," Kamui says firmly, peering over his shoulder at the man in question to see him constantly searching his environment, on full alert now that he's in a more populated area of the city.

With a somewhat forced grin, Julian arches a brow, saying, "Thinking about laying hands on me already, are we?"

Asra pushes open the door, and Kamui quickly reaches back to grab Julian's wrist, yanking him inside. The door is shut and locked before he can do much more than yelp in surprise.

The two magicians make a beeline toward the backroom to go upstairs. Kamui's halfway through the curtain when he turns back, catching Julian still stood by the door.

"Are you coming?" Kamui asks, squinting through the darkness, trying to figure out if Julian was just waiting for the two magicians to leave so he could run away.

Instead, he starts, like he was snapping free of some sort of trance. "Uh—Right. Just... Just lost in thought," he responds, wiping imaginary dust off his clothes before hurrying over to join the others.

Upstairs, the two magicians head directly for the bedroom without a second thought. Julian glances between the doorway to the kitchen and bedroom hesitantly, unsure if he was allowed to follow them into such a place. It only takes a few seconds of lingering in the hallway for Kamui to show up to drag him into the bedroom as well.

Kamui's hold on Julian's hand rescinds once they're in the room proper. He sits on the bed to remove his shoes, glad to finally be rid of them, while Asra does the same, bending down to yank his boots off. He sets his bag down on a nearby surface, opening the flap in search of Faust, who's currently napping between an assortment of bottles and pouches. He scoops her out, careful not to wake her, and delivers her over to a pillow in the windowsill.

Belatedly, it seems to occur to Julian that they're going to bed. He scrambles to remove his waistcoat. After those extraneous layers are dealt with, he hovers a bit, not sure where to set them, until the fabric just floats out of his arms, hanging themselves from a nearby hook. He turns to see Asra giving him a look, one pale eyebrow raised, bringing a light blush to Julian's cheeks, smokey eye aimed down at the floor.

"You're acting like you've never spent the night," Asra comments.

"Well, that's," Julian starts. He glances around the room, taking in the sight of all of Kamui's jewelry, his jackets and scarves hung up along the wall, his boots arranged neatly beneath a dresser. "This room is a lot different now. Now it's a place for you and your apprentice, and I just don't know where I fit in here."

Purposefully oblivious, Kamui says, "Well, you could fit on my side of the bed and I can sleep in the middle. It's big enough. You're gonna have to take off your boots, first, though."

Wide-eyed, Julian glances between the bed and the two magicians, as Asra sidles up next to Kamui on the side, crossing his legs at the knee. It was a queen-sized bed, with enough pillows and blankets for an entire kindergarten classroom. The three of them would fit without much trouble. And yet.

"I don't want to disturb your sleep with all my tossing and turning, I can sleep in the kitchen instead, surely," Julian says, "I'm sure the two of you would rather—"

Kamui pipes up with a sigh, " _I_ would rather you stop talking and come over here to take off your shoes."

The apprentice aims an unimpressed look at Julian, which shuts him up pretty fast. Biting his bottom lip, he hesitates a moment longer before stepping over to the bed, nervously taking a seat on the other side of Kamui. He's all wound up, sitting on the very edge like he was prepared to flee the second he's told to leave.

Very slowly, Asra climbs up onto the bed, getting settled somewhere behind Julian as the man gets to work unlacing his boots. If not for Julian's paranoid sense of vigilance, he might not have even noticed the magician had moved. His breath momentarily stills, hand movements becoming stilted and unnatural, but Asra does nothing more than lay down on his waist, head on the pillows. Noting the doctor's obvious discomfort, he reaches up, a painted-blue fingernail dragging up the line of Julian's spine. Immediately he arches his back to get away from it, like it's a knife, rather than Asra's hand.

"You're vibrating," Asra murmurs, drawing his hand back to rest beside his head.

Releasing a held breath with a bit of a shudder, Julian asks, "I'm what, now?"

"You need to relax, Julian," Kamui says. "No one's going to kick you out. But if you _really_ don't want to be here, then..."

"No! I do," Julian quickly protests, holding up his hands. Without much thought Kamui reaches over and plucks a glove off, which Julian just stares at, like he wasn't aware he was still wearing them. With a sigh, he relaxes, holding out his hands for Kamui. "I'm sorry. This is just—a lot. I keep thinking I'll do something, and one of you will laugh at me, and it will turn out that this was all just a really elaborate prank. Not that I think that of you, that you'd do such a thing, of course not, but life does love playing cruel tricks on me."

Kamui's resting face—which can come off a tad moody—softens a bit, lips parting. He glances back at Asra, who returns the look like he'd expected it. Something passes between them, enough that it gives Kamui the confidence to lean into Julian's personal space. "What can I do to convince you?" he asks.

Outside his notice, Julian drifts forward, eager to be closer to Kamui. "I don't believe I'm in any position to be making demands," he says, with a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. It's then that Kamui notices something; despite Asra lying in Julian's blind spot, he keeps glancing over his shoulder as if he can see him anyway. Hyper-aware that there's more than just him and Kamui in the room. That Asra is there, watching, listening. Passing judgement.

Oh, boy.

Kamui hums, leaning forward. The way Julian starts gravitating towards him, the look in his eye very clearly wanting, brings a small and somewhat devious smile to Kamui's face. Just to be a tease he dives down, reaching for the lace on Julian's boot and tugging it free.

"A request, then," Kamui suggests. Without looking back up he sets to work removing Julian's boots for him, hands wandering over the man's thighs, fondling the length of his legs, making it very difficult for him to respond. For awhile there Kamui doesn't even remember he was waiting on any sort of response. He's too invested in admiring the shape and feel of Julian's legs; for someone so thin, he had a decent amount of muscle. Must be from all the running, he supposes.

As Kamui's hands graze his inner thigh, he parts his legs automatically. "Ohhhh, that's really... _uh_." His face colors, leaning back on his hands as Kamui tugs off the second boot. Pale hands glide back up the length of his legs afterwards, squeezing around his thighs. " _Ohh._ "

"Those aren't words, Ilya," comes the sleepy sound of Asra's voice, teasing; Julian jolts, like he'd forgotten Asra was even there. Which was part of the plan, a plan which Asra didn't seem to particularly care for.

"I like them anyway," Kamui purrs, trailing his fingers up Julian's torso, nails lightly grazing skin. He wants to—to reach beneath his silk blouse, stroke nails through his chest hairs and brush a hand over a nipple. Just to see what he'll do.

But he hesitates, and realizes it's _also_ because Asra is in the room with them. He can't just... get _frisky_ with Julian without knowing if Asra would care to see that. It seemed a lot more like he was ready to sleep. Maybe it would be best to adhere to that desire.

With only a minor amount of awkward fumbling, they get sorted on the bed, with Kamui climbing under the covers between Asra and Julian. For a moment, Julian lays like he's being lowered into his grave, until Kamui tugs on his arm, urging him to lay on his side, where the apprentice can snuggle up to his chest. With some hesitation, Julian relaxes, avoiding looking to where Asra lays curled up against Kamui's back, chin propped on his shoulder. A bronze hand is visible over Kamui's side, fingers lightly grasping his cotton shirt.

Kamui curls an arm around Julian's back, lightly massaging the back of his shoulder. "Good?" he asks.

The question has Julian readjusting, stretching out his legs as he struggles to figure out what to do with his arms. With Asra so close behind Kamui, it was hard to put his arms around him, and without a solid idea of where they stood, he couldn't just go touching Asra whenever and wherever he wanted.

Taking pity on him, Kamui grabs both of Julian's hands, pressing kisses to his knuckles before resting them between their chests. The backs of Julian's cold, ice cube hands press against Kamui's bare chest, the difference in temperature nearly enough to hurt, but he finds he doesn't mind it.

"Better?" Kamui asks. He tilts his head up to see Julian smile down at him, a tender look in his eye. It's all the answer he needs, but it's still nice when Julian responds in the affirmative.

He leans forward to lay a kiss to Kamui's forehead. The affectionate gesture draws a pleased sigh from Kamui's lips, happy to see Julian relaxed enough to do such a thing. "Thank you, my dear," he whispers, voice low and breath warm against Kamui's skin. A smile spreads across his lips, and he leans even closer, nuzzling, cheeks warm.

 

There's a teacup in his hands, something delicate and ornate. It's gold around the rim, swirling around the handle, a soft ivory and filled with glowing red water— _lemon tea_ —that ripples with the force of a nearby quake. Flames lick his hands as he raises the cup up to his lips, tasting chalk as the liquid pours over his tongue. It burns going down. He ignores it.

There's a weight on his chest, an ache, a pain, vines tearing through his chest like they were made to grow there, like he was born to grow them. It hurts. He can't breathe.

He ignores that, too.

The teacup shatters in his hand, the sound thick and deep and loud. A split-second later its gone. Red stains the white of his clothes, dripping down his side, clothing torn in two little swipes, glowing, piercing through the dark. He stumbles along dirty cobblestone floors, shuffling on legs like stilts, clumsy. The flames curl around his ankles, like greedy little hands desperate to drag him into the depths of the reservoir below.

He doesn't want to let them, but he has no choice. His throat clogs, the petals scratching the inside of his mouth, scorching him from the inside out. He can't breathe. It hurts.

Ignore that.

Curled up, motionless. There was cobblestone beneath his head, his hands, his body. It didn't feel like anything. Nothing felt at all, not the hair sticking to his face, not the ash clinging to his hands, not the wound oozing down his torso. Everything was just the ache in his chest. Ignore it. His eyes burned, throat clogging, suffocating. _Ignore it._ Liquid dripped down his cheeks, searing hot against cold skin. _Ignore. It._

_This wasn't supposed to happen._

It's warm. So warm, dark, he can't see anymore. Cold and ashy against his cheek. Something is draped over him, keeping him warm, even as rain pelts against his face. He cracks his eyes open. It's not raining. Something drips down his cheeks, and he sees himself reaching for something, desperate, but nothing's there. His thumb comes away wet.

The vines tighten around his chest until something snaps under the pressure.

 

  
He wakes with a start, lurching like he was about to fall. A tremor passes over him, head to toe, his fingers twitching against the mattress. He curls up, tight, like a rabbit hiding from the hungry maw of a deadly predator.

Suppressing the sharp sounds of his own breaths he glances up, searching, his sleep-addled brain just barely supplying him with the information that _the bed isn't supposed to be empty next to you_.

Oh, no.

His eyes snap wide open. Struggling to keep himself from panicking, he extricates himself from Asra's hold, ignoring or perhaps unable to recognize the ache of restlessness in his body, resisting him. He raises to look immediately over to where Julian's coats hung the night prior.

The rack was empty.

Stumbling to his feet not unlike he was completely drunk, he rounds the bed to find the black, thigh-length boots missing, as well as the gloves that had been tossed onto the bedside table on Asra's side. He nearly trips out into the main hallway, too tired to maintain his usual poise. The bathroom was dark, door ajar. He checks anyway; Julian was dramatic, right? Enough to hide in a dark room by himself?

Apparently not. The bathroom was devoid of any other living souls, and the kitchen was exactly the same. With his heart pounding loud enough to have his pulse throbbing in his ears he forces himself downstairs, not bothering to think about the very real possibility of tripping down them. He manages to make it without incident, finding the backroom empty and unchanged. The shop, his last hope, looks... exactly the same.

His heart drops.

_He left. He left you. He left in the middle of the night without a word because he can't stand to be near you and he could be locked up right now, or dead, or..._

On the verge of hyperventilating he ends up outside, on the front step, the chilly morning air washing over him. It's too cold, too quiet, empty, hollow. It's not how it's supposed to be, filled with life, energy, warmth, noise—

The world around him spins and he doesn't know how it happens but he finds himself back inside the shop, back to the door, sliding down to the floor. He pulls his legs close to his body and holds them tight enough to hurt. His eyes burn with unshed tears.

What did he do wrong? Was it too much, too fast? Should he really have insisted they all share the bed, or should he have arranged somewhere else for Julian to sleep? It was all a little presumptuous, perhaps, thinking it was alright for the three of them to get close to each other. It just seemed so nice—had _felt_ so nice, so perfect, so right—but had it not translated for Julian? Had he hated it?

Was he being selfish for insisting...? He thought Julian _liked_ being told what to do, was that wrong? Should he have given the man more choice, more leeway, should he have listened when Julian said he could go somewhere else, instead, had that all been his way of saying ' _I don't want to be here_ '?

Tears cascade down his cheeks and he lets them, hardly even noticing, or caring. This was his fault. Julian left because of him. He led the man into a dangerous part of the city, where the guard presence was higher, and he could be dead right now and it's all his fault.

He doesn't know how long he's there, only that he's spent the entire time making everything worse. Somehow it could only go downhill from there— _you messed up, you scared him away, he's not going to want to see you, if you weren't so selfish, if you weren't so needy, chasing everyone away with your constant cloying_ —and he felt like he might die, like he couldn't breathe, couldn't think clearly, couldn't see.

_I'm alone, alone, alone—_

It doesn't occur to him that there's someone else in the room until Asra is crouching right next to him, hair mussed up and eyes tired, yet wide awake, alert. "Kamui. Kamui, can you hear me? Please, look at me," he pleads. He sounds so broken that Kamui can't help but turn immediately. His vision blurs, dizzy, everything lagging behind a little, slow, surreal.

Asra's hands reach out to caress the sides of his face, but stop just short, seeking permission. Anything at all to reassure him that Kamui wouldn't flinch away from him. Maybe he finds what he's looking for, or maybe he takes a risk, but either way his hands are pressing into Kamui's skin, thumbs brushing the tears from his eyes. Kamui stares up at him, transfixed.

"Kamui, listen to me, it's alright. Just watch me, okay? Breathe with me," he says, taking a deep breath and holding it, waiting for Kamui to do the same, his a lot more laborious and unsteady, incapable of holding onto it, choking on a sob instead. Asra doesn't give up, repeating the breaths several times more until Kamui's able to match him, his tears subsiding. Brushing Kamui's damp hair out of his face, he says, "Good, you're doing good. I'm proud of you, Kamui, you're doing so well."

The gentle praise soothes the sting in Kamui's heart, eyes prickling with tears for a different reason entirely, although these don't overwhelm him. He finds himself nodding, for whatever reason.

"You're so good, Kamui. Everything's alright. Please don't worry."

"J-Julian," Kamui croaks, reaching forward blindly to grasp at the front of Asra's dress. Eager, _desperate_ , even, for contact. Asra's hands clasp around his, bringing them back against his chest, resting one directly over his heart. The rhythm of his heartbeat is calming, something to latch onto to distract himself from the noise in his head.

"I know. It's alright," Asra says soothingly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against his apprentice's. "He's okay, you're okay. This just—This is just what he does, Kamui. He's... flighty. It's nothing you did."

_Isn't it? How can it not be?_

Kamui wants to vocalize that, to get an answer for it, like Asra knew everything and whatever he had to say would solve everything instantly. It really felt like that, sometimes. Instead, all he can do is sniffle loudly, letting himself droop until Asra gets the point and shifts to pull Kamui against his body. A single arm wraps around his back, the other hand remaining clasped around his.

"I wish I could have warned you," Asra whispers, somewhere right around Kamui's ear. "Ilya just disappears sometimes, Kamui. But he'll come back, I promise you that."

"But—" Kamui protests, not liking the way his own voice sounds in his ears. Watery and vulnerable and _small_. He swallows in an attempt to clear the phlegm from his throat. "How—How do you know? What if he's...?"

"He'll be fine," Asra says. His hand finds the back of Kamui's head, gently combing through his hair. "Let's go upstairs, okay? I'll make you some cinnamon tea, how does that sound?"

Weakly, Kamui nods, raising up but refusing to pick his head up, _knowing_ how he must look right now and loathing that fact. God, why did he have to cry so much? Asra never acted like this.

"I'll carry you," Asra offers, to which Kamui immediately perks up, forgetting that he ever wanted to hide. The reaction draws a low chuckle from Asra, his eyes fond through all the worry etched into his features. "I take it that's a yes, then?"

Kamui nods, much more enthusiastically than before. He wraps his arms around Asra's shoulders preemptively, and the two rise to their feet. Almost immediately Kamui's feet are swept off the ground and up into Asra's arms. Despite the magician's reluctance to do it before, he seemed more than capable of it right now, not swaying even slightly on his way into the backroom and up the stairs.

Shameless, Kamui reaches out to touch Asra's bicep through the long sleeve of his dress, surprised by just how strong his arms are, feeling the muscles flex beneath his palm. Despite everything, it's a little arousing.

"Enjoying yourself?" Asra asks, with a devious curl of his lips.

"I never noticed you were this strong before," Kamui says.

"You're _very_ light, Kamui."

"No, I mean. Your arms are so muscular, when did this happen?"

A touch surprised, Asra glances towards his own arms, like he wasn't aware of it himself. Rather than say something humble, though, he lets out an amused puff of air, saying, "You could, too, you know." Kamui pouts, about to protest, when Asra continues. "This is probably a lot of climbing up mountains and trees and other things. You'll look more like me once you've done a bit more travelling."

Kamui's eyes light up. "Together?" he asks. Asra's response comes in the form of a soft smile, leaning forward to lay a kiss to Kamui's forehead.

"Together," he confirms.

Inside the kitchen, Asra deposits Kamui into the colorful pile of pillows nearby the dining table. Before he can pull away, though, Kamui wraps all his limbs around him, dragging him down to his knees. The vibrations of Asra's resulting laugh reverberate down Kamui's spine.

"Kamui, the tea."

He kisses a line up Asra's neck, attempting to get him to lie down fully so they can lay flush against each other. "Just... a few minutes," Kamui says. A soft sigh parts Asra's lips, born more of fondness than annoyance, and he settles in over the top of Kamui, arms still wrapped around his back. They kiss, and Kamui finds his body growing warm, all the way down his torso, everywhere they touch. They fit together perfectly, like they were made for each other.

The thought, and the feeling of Asra being so intimately close to him, sends a jolt of electricity down his body. It isn't much longer after that that the mounting excitement becomes noticeable, and Asra pulls away, wiggling his hips a bit.

"Kamui, are you...?"

Kamui's face burns. "S-Sorry, just... ignore that," he says, embarrassed, turning his head away and lightly pushing on Asra's shoulders. "It's just..." _neediness_ , "Sorry."

A hand grazes his inner thigh. "Do you want to...?"

"God, Asra, I'm not _that_ horny," Kamui complains, drawing a laugh from the magician above him. Asra raises up, and Kamui immediately draws his legs tighter together, hiding even as his partner smirks smugly down at him.

"I beg to differ," Asra teases, sending him a wink as Kamui lifts a pillow, chucking it at his head. It bounces off him with a soft sound, drawing a playful laugh that warms Kamui's heart to hear.

As Asra busies himself with the kettle, Kamui curls up on his side and takes a deep breath. This morning was a bit too energetic and stressful for him already, and he wasn't even sure what time it was. At some point Faust slithers up the pillows next to him, peering up at him curiously. He reaches out to skritch her under the chin, and she flickers her tongue out like a little snake purr. She curls around his shoulders, snuggling up to him.

"Oh, there's..." Asra starts, and Kamui raises his head to look, curious. There's a folded up piece of paper in his hands, the kettle boiling on the stove behind him. He looks sidelong at Kamui. "I'm pretty sure this is for you."

He holds it out for Kamui, who looks up at it like he's being offered a dead rat. Reluctantly he accepts the page, holding it between thumb and forefinger as he turns it over, spotting a scratchy-looking 'J' scrawled into the corner. All he can do it stare at it, unable to will himself to actually read it. Unwilling to confirm some of his worst fears. After all, Julian was 'flighty'. One night they were all over each other, and the very next morning, Julian was preparing to break up with him.

Was this a mistake? Was this just doomed to repeat forever?

 _No._ He couldn't let himself think that way. Let all the things Julian had said to him back at the docks actually consume his thoughts, tear away at his resolve. It was bullshit then and it's bullshit now.

_That's more like it._

He tucks the letter under his arm, unwilling to acknowledge it. Yet.

After pouring them some tea, Asra settles into a stool nearby Kamui, passing a mug over to him. The surface of the porcelain is chilled with a faint dusting of magic, preventing him from burning his hands on it. With a small smile, he blows on the liquid, watching the steam displace over the rim.

It's quiet for awhile, nothing but soft breaths and the occasional sip of tea to break the silence. Faust coils around Asra's shoulders, peering down at her reflection in his tea. Kamui just watches them, the look in Asra's eyes far away. Kamui wonders what he's thinking about.

Eventually, his eyes clear, and he lets out a soft hum. "Do you have anything you want to do today?" he asks. Kamui notices the measured pace of his voice, carefully selecting each word as he goes along.

He stares down into his tea. "The masquerade isn't very far away," he says. "I want to clear Julian's name before then."

Asra nods slowly. "I might know someone who could help you," he says. Kamui perks up a little at that, curious, and asks for more details. A soft, patient smile spreads on Asra's face. "He's a friend. He lives out in the woods nearby."

"The woods... in that old hut? Is he actually going to be there this time?" he humorously asks, peering up over the rim of his mug. A tight smile forms on Asra's face.

"He _was_ there," Asra says.

The look Kamui gives him is one of confusion and disbelief. If this was a joke, it was distinctly unfunny. He had enough issues with his memory without Asra acting like it was something to make light of.

Asra wasn't like that, but... They hadn't encountered anyone in the woods. It had rained, Asra said he had a place for them to go, a friend's place. They went to a hut, lit the fireplace, undressed, cuddled. He went to get firewood, then... then...?

_What happened after that...?_

"He's under a spell, sort of like you, but instead of forgetting, he's forgotten," Asra says. There's something about his tone, his expression, that makes the statement seem almost practiced. And, considering the context, it might have been.

That... explained a few things. It was kind of—very, very—alarming how powerful the spell seemed to be, how it erased every mention of him, whoever he was. Scary to think that a piece of his memory might be on a timer, set to vanish forever. Sure, a lot of memories worked that way by default, but those lasted years, decades, even, as opposed to _two days_.

Had he had this crisis before?

"I don't like that," Kamui very bluntly says.

"I know you don't. I wish I could help you remember, but it's really not my place to do something like that."

Which brings Kamui to the realization... "Wait, how do you remember him, then?"

There's a bit of a sad glint in his eyes as Asra responds, "I can't tell you that, not in detail. We can ask him about it in person, though, if you'd like to remember him. You never know, he might agree to it."

The look on Asra's face says ' _I highly doubt it_ ', while also remaining a bit hopeful. Kamui wonders if this is something that's happened time and time again.

After a few more minutes pass in silence, Kamui speaks up again. "I should find Julian before we leave, huh."

"Do you know where to look?" Asra asks, glancing curiously to the paper stuck under Kamui's arm. ' _Did he tell you?_ ' he doesn't say.

Inclining his head to one side, Kamui says, "I can take a wild guess."

 

  
With their clothes still being laundered back at the palace, the magicians are stuck finding something else to wear. It was about time, anyway; Kamui was getting tired of wearing dirty clothes, no matter how much magic he put into maintaining them. He bled in that outfit _and_ slept in the forest in it. It was beyond gross by the time he was finally free of it.

He spends a notably longer time than Asra just on selecting an outfit. Enough time that Asra volunteers his assistance. Kamui can't help but feel grateful that he doesn't begrudge him his vanity, only teasing a little as he helps the apprentice get dressed.

In the end he settles on [something](https://66.media.tumblr.com/76ee5b75eb1df532ced5c21dc063c130/tumblr_px4057JArO1qi7tzho3_1280.png) both practical and easy to remove, since that seemed to be increasingly necessary of late. Dressed in red pinstriped leggings, black ankle boots, and a loose white blouse cuffed around the wrists, he adds a gold coin belt around the waist to complete the look.

Checking himself out in the mirror of a nearby vanity table, he peers over his shoulder at Asra, who's resting on the edge of their bed, Faust coiled around his shoulders. "What do you think?" he asks, finding himself a little eager for the magician's approval. More so than usual, anyway.

"Mmm, I like the back," he comments, violet eyes roaming across Kamui's bare back, where a gold ribbon on the collar dips down between his shoulderblades. "You won't get too cold, will you?"

Kamui looks down at his silk blouse. It not only didn't cover the majority of his back, but it bared a slight sliver of his chest, as well, the two halves attached to a halter-neck collar, the emerald gleaming between them. Maybe it was a little revealing. Maybe he was hoping to get a certain doctor riled up.

...Maybe it was a little cold without a jacket on.

"How's this?" Asra asks, draping a long, knit shawl over Kamui's shoulders. The wool was dyed a beautifully deep crimson, with fringed tassels on the end. It was both good looking and comfortable, almost like a blanket. Experimentally Kamui throws one half of it over his shoulder like a very large scarf, smiling at the end result.

He turns, finding himself turning into Asra's arms, more or less. "You're a genius," he says, taking a single step closer to reward his partner with a kiss, feeling Asra smile against him. His hands find their way to Asra's waist, beneath the soft fabric of his sapphire-toned jacket, the sleeves of which are pushed up over his forearms, as always. Ruby eyes roam over Asra's form, taking in the sight of him. "Oh, but you look so beautiful in blue..."

Asra smirks, a knowing look in his eye. "I get the feeling..."

"I would say that about every color," Kamui finishes for him. "Listen, I've spent years thinking about how dazzling you are, let me have this."

Surprise flashes in Asra's eyes, his cheeks coloring. "...Years? That long?"

Kamui's fingers graze along the length of Asra's shirt, up a bared chest and over a fringed scarf to rest beside the golden choker he seemed to love so much. "It was probably my first coherent thought, if I'm being honest," he confesses. It has Asra looking even more stunned than before. "All I could think was about how pretty you were, like a work of art. Do you know how confusing it is having a crush on the only person you know when you don't even know what a crush is?"

"You... You did?" Turning bashful, Asra lowers his head, cheeks burning, gaze averted. "Kamui, I had no idea. I just thought that... well, it seemed like normal behavior for you. You've always been very physical."

"Well, to be fair, it didn't occur to me either. But now we're both done being silly and I can kiss you without you telling me to stop."

"You never tried kissing me on the lips," Asra notes.

"You never did either," Kamui points out. The stricken expression on Asra's face as he says that tells a different story, however. "Oh, you _did_ , didn't you?"

"You wouldn't remember," Asra says, slowly shaking his head, ivory curls bouncing. "I had to... you didn't take it well."

Kamui cringes, remembering what Asra had told him in his gateway. "Catatonic?"

Asra shakes his head again, "Not quite that bad, but... really bad. You were in so much pain, I don't ever want to see that again."

With a bit of a nervous edge, Kamui laughs. "Well... Maybe it's a good thing we waited so long, then. With the way things are now, I think I'd _die_ if I wasn't allowed to kiss you." The slight attempt at humor seems to go over well, even if Asra's resulting chuckle does come out a bit forced.

To prove his point, Kamui leans in for a kiss, lightly tugging on Asra's jacket. The magician's hands find their way to Kamui's hips, sliding under his shirt where he can better feel the imprint of Asra's hands. He takes a step forward, and Kamui matches him, feeling his lower back hit the vanity table. The fact sends a surge of excitement through him that has him deepening the kiss.

A warm tongue swipes across his lower lip and he parts them, eagerly allowing Asra inside. He makes a needy noise in the back of his throat as hands firmly grasp his backside, felt plainly through the thinner fabric of his leggings. Arms raise to clutch at the magician's shoulders, a pale hand carding through his hair. They break apart with shuddering breaths, Asra trailing kisses down to Kamui's neck, nose nudging under his hair to suck a mark into the side of his neck.

It's with a moan tumbling out of Kamui's lips that Asra pulls away suddenly. "Oh," he says, blinking. "We're getting a little carried away..."

Breathless, Kamui giggles. "Am I so irresistible that you've lost all coherent thought?"

A tawny hand grasps the longest piece of Kamui's hair, a thin strand that reaches several inches past the rest, rubbing it between his fingers. "Something like that," Asra admits. The blush on his face is too cute, and Kamui can't resist kissing it. Several times, for good measure.

With a grand amount of reluctance, the two peel themselves away from each other. Asra slings his bag on over his shoulders while Kamui fusses over his own hair a little more, and then the two head outside, locking the door behind them.

Without much thought, Kamui starts walking, Asra following close behind. For awhile, no words are exchanged, walking in total silence as they head through the city into the South End. It's around then that Asra decides to break the silence.

"You have this air of confidence about you," he says, drawing Kamui's attention and snapping him out of his thoughts. He's smiling, a nostalgic look in his violet eyes. "You used to always hold onto me when we went to the market."

Kamui's brows crease. "Everyone would stare at me! I used to think there was something weird about the way I looked." He doesn't mention how the crowds used to scare him. How going from only one person to dozens all at once felt like going from having one bug land on to you a whole swarm of them. It didn't bother him anymore—the people blended into the background, just like everything else.

"They must have felt just as intoxicated by your beauty as I do," Asra flirts, his smile turning coquettish. Heat rises to Kamui's face, every other thought getting chased away. He turns to his partner with stars in his eyes.

"You think I'm beautiful?" he asks, his tone so genuinely touched that it takes Asra by surprise. He surges forward to match pace with Kamui, despite having no idea where they were going.

"Of _course_ I do," he says. "Do I not say it enough...?"

Kamui grabs a strand of his own hair, running his nails through it. He _had_ said it before, why was it just now causing his heart to beat so fast? "...You could say it again," Kamui shyly suggests, attempting to mask his eagerness with humor.

Asra smiles warmly. "You're the most handsome man I've ever met," he says. The sincerity in his voice has Kamui's blush deepening; as if he wasn't pink enough by default. "The most beautiful _person_ I've ever seen."

"O-Oh," Kamui stutters, his voice slightly higher than it was naturally. He wasn't sure why this was affecting him so much. It just... meant a lot to him. He lets out a laugh. "You saw me fall apart this morning, and you're still going to say that? I looked like such a mess, Asra."

"I don't see that when I look at you," he says, staring intently down at his apprentice, whose smile is almost goofy with how happy he looks. Giddy enough that he doesn't give his normal reaction; a playful shove, a ' _shut up_ ' forced out in the middle of a laugh. Instead he continues combing through the same strand of hair, his movements picking up a bit of speed the more flustered he gets.

"You're trying to butter me up," Kamui accuses. He looks up at Asra with a raised brow. "You want something."

Without missing a beat, Asra responds, "Just you."

"Ohhh, fuck off, that was smooth."

The time passes a lot faster now that they're talking again, and they find themselves at their destination in no time at all. Kamui steps up to the building, noting the shutters drawn over the windows. He looks back at Asra, who's looking over the home with curiosity.

"I have a hunch that he'll be here," Kamui says. "Wait outside for me, please?" In response, Asra just nods.

Stepping up to the door, Kamui takes a deep, steadying breath before knocking. A bit nervous he folds his arms across his chest, holding his elbows. It doesn't take long before the door pulls open with only a bit of difficulty, the door frame a bit tilted from the door itself.

He meets Mazelinka's chestnut gaze with his best attempt at a charming smile, but he doesn't manage to get even a single world out before she sighs and yells over her shoulder. "Ilya! Your boyfriend's here!" There's the sound of something crashing in the background, and Kamui covers his mouth to conceal a laugh. She turns back to give Kamui an exasperated look, her lip curling. "Good thing you're here. He's been working himself into a frenzy all morning."

She steps back inside, not bothering to close the door as Kamui immediately walks in after her, shutting the door behind him. For a moment he starts to draw a sigil into the door, before realizing it doesn't work that way. He turns back around, spotting Julian standing over by the dining table, divested of his coats.

"Kamui! You're here," Julian says, bending down to pick up one of the chairs, setting it upright. He straightens out as best he can under the low ceiling. "So, um. I suppose you got my letter, then. And, you're alright? No guards beating down your door? The Countess hasn't sent anyone after you, right?"

In the background, Mazelinka scoffs, briefly drawing their attention over to her as Julian turns a bit red.

"I just worry," he finishes lamely, staring down at his feet.

Seeing such open concern on the doctor's face kills a lot of the building steam Kamui had going in him. He had been upset, thought the worst. Then he kinda wanted to be mad; frustrated that Julian was still doing these things, still running away and making excuses, waxing poetic about how tragic he is. But this didn't seem like it was the same thing. Maybe the reason he left wasn't as devastating as Kamui initially thought.

_Leave it to my nightmares to make everything feel extreme..._

Glancing over to Mazelinka, who was too busy mixing some sort of concoction at the hearth to pay them any mind, Kamui steps forward, grabbing onto Julian's wrist. "Let's talk privately," he says, keeping his voice down even though he was sure nothing would get past Mazelinka with her so close by. Julian nods, steeling his expression, all business, making it hard to tell if he was nervous about this or not. They head off towards the bedroom alcove in silence. Once properly concealed behind the partition, Kamui drops his hold on Julian, turning around to face him.

Kamui reaches past the fabric of his shirt, pulling the letter out from where it was tucked into the top of his leggings. He holds it between two fingers, like a playing card. "Explain this," he says.

Relief flashes in Julian's eyes at that, his expression softening. "Oh, that. I know my handwriting can be a bit, uh, cryptic, but, if you need me to read it for you—"

"I don't _want_ to read it," Kamui interrupts, much to Julian's surprise. Before he can say anything else, Kamui continues, "Tell me why you left. To my face, please."

"Oh," Julian says, deflating a bit. He glances over to the bed. With a sigh he steps over to it, taking a seat and smoothing a gloved hand over the spot next to him. Kamui gets the point without him having to say anything, sitting down next to him.

"I'm sorry," Julian says, mere seconds after Kamui gets settled. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

There's some type of speech he's got prepared here, but Kamui doesn't have the patience for it. "Did being in a bed with Asra make you uncomfortable? Is that why you left?" he asks. "Was I just... forcing you to be there against your will?"

"No! No, it wasn't like that," Julian says, vehemently shaking his head. Turning more fully towards Kamui than he already was, he reaches for both of Kamui's hands, the leather cool against his palms. "I feel more comfortable with you than I have in a long time."

The admission has Kamui's heart fluttering, but still, he has to ask. "Then, why?"

"You know I have trouble sleeping," Julian starts. "And when you're left to your thoughts all night, it's a little hard not to start worrying about... well, everything. It's nothing either of you did, it's just..." He sighs, gesturing vaguely towards his own head. "Things get a little messy in here. I needed time to think."

"About what?" Kamui prompts.

Hesitant, Julian glances between Kamui and the leather of his gloves. "I just wonder," he starts, staring more at their hands than anywhere else, "Is it really... I mean, is this really such a good idea? I don't—I don't want the two of you to get hurt because of me, I'm not worth the trouble."

"Don't say that," Kamui snaps, watching as Julian lowers his head, lip drawn between his teeth. "Julian, I told you, I already made my choice."

"But what if it was a bad choice?" Julian asks, sneering. "I get it. I know you're here to stay, and I have no doubts that Asra would follow you to the ends of the earth. Even if it just leads the both of you to ruin, along with me."

"Then we won't follow you. You can follow me instead; would that make you feel better?" Kamui asks, watching as Julian's gaze snaps up to him in surprise. "If I told you what to do, where to go?"

"I don't want to force that kind of responsibility onto you," Julian protests. He attempts to pull his hand back, but Kamui tightens his hold. A silver eye darts over to where their hands meet, startled by Kamui's grip strength.

"You couldn't force anything onto me if you tried. I don't do things because I feel obligated to, Jules. I do them because I want to, and I want to help you."

"I-I know that. And I'm not telling you to leave, I'm done with that." Kamui loosens his grip, but Julian doesn't even attempt to pull away. So, instead, he brings their hands up to his face, kissing the back of Julian's hand. "God knows I've unloaded enough baggage onto you at this point, and yet you're still here. Not that I entirely understand why."

"Do you understand this?"

He wraps his hands around the sides of Julian's neck, pulling him into a searing kiss. Julian makes a startled sound in the back of his throat, reciprocating after only a moment of shock. When Kamui pulls away, he spots a smile growing on Julian's rosy lips.

"Oh, I think I understand this part quite well," Julian quips, smiling wide, a hand raising to stroke the underside of Kamui's chin. Kamui scoffs, rolling his eyes. "You know, I really don't mind letting you take the reigns. I'll just be here at your feet."

"At my feet, huh? I like the sound of that."

Julian shoots him a saucy look before sliding off the edge of the bed, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He lays his hands in Kamui's lap, resting his head on one of them. The smirk on his face is so insufferably smug. "How's this?" he asks.

Kamui hums, running his hands through Julian's curls. It was... comfortable. Something about it tugged at his chest, sent a flash of excitement coursing through his body, settling somewhere very close to where Julian's head was currently resting. It gave him a few thoughts that he really shouldn't be considering right now.

"I think I like this a little too much," Kamui admits.

"Oh?" Julian coos, one of his hands shifting to rub over the inside of Kamui's thigh. The fabric of his leggings was way too thin not to feel every inch of it dragging across him. "Does it give you any ideas?" His hand travels higher, thumb pressing into the crook of Kamui's thigh. It feels too good for Kamui to want to tell him to stop. "You're a magician. Creative type. I'm sure you can think of plenty of things."

"I can think of a lot of things, but nothing I'm going to tell you with your grandmother in the other room," Kamui says, his own statement giving him enough clarity to bat Julian's hand aside.

"A shame," Julian laments. "Because I can think of lots of things we could be doing..."

Leaning down as best he can, Kamui lowers his voice, saying, "Oh, believe me, if we were alone here I would _destroy_ you."

That tears a shuddering breath out of the man below him, a shiver racing down his spine. A thick blush stains his cheeks as he says, "Ohhhh, but you can't just _say_ things like that..."

Raising a brow, Kamui retorts, "I'm pretty sure I can say whatever I want." With no warning, he dives in, capturing Julian's earlobe between his teeth and biting down as hard as he can manage. With a sharp gasp, Julian's hands clench, one of them flying up to his mouth to conceal a groan. Kamui releases him before any blood can be drawn.

"You're good at following orders, aren't you?" he asks, right by Julian's ear, voice barely above a whisper. While his voice isn't deep by any means, it comes out a bit rumbly, causing him to shudder. To make it worse, he presses a lingering kiss over his ear.

"I am," Julian breathes, turning to try and steal a kiss before Kamui can pull away. He doesn't succeed, a hand in his hair pulling him back at a distance. Kamui tsks, and the sound alone is enough to send Julian rambling. "Please, I'll be good, I'll be so good, whatever you want."

"That's what I like to hear," Kamui purrs, brushing a hand over Julian's cheek just to have him press tighter against it, eager. He lets it linger a bit, only pulling away once he feels Julian start to nuzzle into his hand. There's a disappointed look on his face as Kamui rises to his feet, stepping past Julian and over to the curtain. "Get up, Jules." In an instant, Julian is on his feet. "We have somewhere to go. Asra said he knows someone who can help us, so we're going to meet with him."

"He does?" Julian asks, surprised, but curious. His expression turns a touch suspicious. "And you're sure this 'friend' isn't just one of the Countess' guards, prepared to send an arrow right through my heart?"

Reaching for the curtain, Kamui turns with a gasp, throwing a hand over his heart. "And deprive this city the pleasure of getting to see their _beloved_ Count's murderer hanged? Please, Jules, he'd aim lower."

" _Lower?_ Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose."

Kamui cringes. "Ugh. Why are you _like_ this?"

With a rakish grin, Julian says, "Well, you know what they say. It's all some sort of childhood trauma or daddy issues."

"Please never say the word 'daddy' again."

Julian's lips press tightly together, trembling with the urge to disobey and say exactly that. With a disgusted grimace Kamui turns and steps back out into the main room, finding Mazelinka tossing some twigs into her cauldron before ladelling it into a glass bottle. She places it inside a cloth bag, the bottle clinking against another along the way. Without even turning to acknowledge him she lifts the bag, shoving it into Kamui's arms.

"Here. That boy won't eat unless you force him to, so I made you two some lunch."

Kamui's eyes widen, darting between the cloth bag in his arms and the woman who gave it to him. "Oh, that's... That's very generous, thank you," he says. She waves him off.

"Just make sure he eats. He's too skinny as it is," she says.

Julian sidles up behind Kamui with a grin. "Lithe, my dear," he corrects. She gives him a mild look, and yet he continues, " _Slender_. Svel—" Mazelinka cuts him off with a playful swat of her wooden spoon against his head, causing him to duck a little too late, grinning wide despite the hit. It must not have hurt too badly—actually, wait, it didn't matter at all with Julian, did it?

"Well, I'll just go get my things, then, shall I?" Julian says, his smile soft as he looks down at Kamui. He bends down to press a chaste kiss to Kamui's temple. "Another exciting day, another exciting adventure."

Brushing aside a rug in the center of the room, he pulls open a trap door, making his way down into the hole. Kamui can hear a dull thud as Julian's head hits the ceiling, or, rather, the floor, drawing a soft chuckle from Kamui's lips. The door closes behind him. Readjusting his hold on the sack to dangle it at his side, he turns to find Mazelinka giving him a small smile. He blinks, surprised.

"He really does brighten up when you're around, you know," she says. That just surprises him to hear even more. Her lip curls as she adds, "And he's a miserable mess when you're not."

"Oh," Kamui squeaks. "Has he said anything about me?"

"Lots of things," she says.

"G-Good things, I hope?" That draws an amused breath from her.

"It's always 'Kamui this' and 'Kamui that' with him," she says, shaking her head in exasperation as she returns to her kitchen, cleaning up the mess she left behind. Kamui can feel his heartrate start to pick up. "Woke me up at the crack of dawn crashing in through the window. Spent the whole morning moaning and bellyaching, working himself up into a tizzy. ' _Ohhh, Mazelinka, what if he's upset with me? What if someone saw me with him? What am I going to do if he gets into trouble because of me?_ '"

She tsks, sweeping some eggshells off the counter and into a flower pot. "I've never seen that boy go all glossy-eyed like he does for you."

"...Never?" Kamui repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. It seems to catch her attention anyway, and she turns to him, silent as she observes his expression, fingers pressed to his lips as he stares thoughtfully down at the floorboards.

Was that true? Not... not even with...?

The sound of Mazelinka's voice snaps him back to attention. "He cares about you," she says. Her expression is fond as she looks down to the trap door. "So take him off my hands for me, would you? And don't let go, he's a slippery boy."

_Don't I know it..._

"Who's slippery?" Comes the sound of Julian's voice, as the trap door opens up, letting him back up into the main room. "Talking about me behind my back, hmm?" He swipes dust off his waistcoat and pants, closing the door with his boot. Kamui catches the deep pink coloring of his ears from behind his back. "Telling tales again, are we?"

"Nonsense. Never told a tale in my life," Mazelinka dismisses. "Now get out of my house."

She exchanges a look with Kamui, smiling before wandering off, muttering to herself. Kamui turns to look up at Julian, catching his blush before Julian looks away, staring bashfully down at his feet.

Awkwardly clearing his throat, he says, "I, uh. You, ah. About what Mazelinka said... I do care. About what happens to you, I mean." He raises his head, smiling affectionately over at Kamui, who feels his face warm under Julian's gaze. "And I'm glad you're on my side."

Kamui tries his best to return the smile, but finds it hard with the way his heart flutters, forcing him to look away, shy. He feels leather brush past his fingers as Julian steps in closer, the cloth sack being urged out of his grasp.

"Here, I'll carry this for you," he says, and Kamui relents, willingly handing it over. With a dashing smile, he adds, "Well, now. Let's go meet this 'friend' of your master's, hmm?"

With Mazelinka out of earshot, Kamui says, "He's not my master, Julian. I'm a top."

The bluntness at which his joke was delivered nearly causes Julian to choke, which soon turns into a startled laugh. He sends Kamui a salacious grin. "Oh, trust me, I remember," he says, waggling his eyebrows. With a laugh Kamui steps forward, guiding Julian to turn and pushing him toward the door.

Outside, he finds Asra sitting in the grass, several hens gathered around him with one seated in his lap. He doesn't seem to notice the door has opened right away, and Kamui hears him say, "Are you getting enough sun out here?" to one of the hens, who makes a clucking sound in response.

"I'm sorry, do you speak to the hens now?" Kamui asks, stepping over closer to the magician with Julian closing the door behind them. Asra startles a bit, a small smile forming on his face as he looks up at Kamui.

"They have all the best secrets," he says, smoothing a hand over the feathers of the hen resting in his lap.

Julian tilts his head. "Do they?"

Asra hums. He leans forward, lifting one of the hens up to his ear. "What's that? Ohhh," he says, pretending to listen to the hen, who is just staring at him in confusion. "Ilya did that? Hmm, yeah, sounds just like him."

"I did what now?" Julian asks, frowning. "What are they saying?"

"They're saying Asra's full of shit," Kamui says, laughing. He looks up at Julian, who appears surprised, before glaring down at Asra. The look on the magician's face is extremely smug.

"You're too easy, Ilya."

Julian lets out a sigh. "You talk to your snake, how was I supposed to know you don't have some sort of—animal speech spell?"

"I don't. Now you know," Asra says, setting the hens aside and gracefully rising to his feet. He steps over the short fence keeping the hens inside the yard, making a beeline over to Kamui and kissing him on the cheek. "Missed you," he whispers.

Kamui chuckles. "It was only a few minutes."

"Felt longer," Asra says, his fingers curling up the underside of Kamui's chin, tilting his head back a bit. He leans in for a kiss, and Kamui swells, grabbing onto the front of Asra's cobalt jacket. It only lasts a few seconds, but it floods Kamui's chest with tenderness and warmth all the same.

Kamui turns to see Julian staring right at them, a faraway look in his eyes, but he turns away the second he's noticed, clearing his throat.

 

  
"Aren't you going to ask about this friend you've supposedly met before?" Asra asks, holding Kamui's hand to guide him over a tangled up tree root stretching across the forest floor. Kamui tilts his head.

"Would I remember anything you told me?"

Asra hums, thoughtful. "Do you remember his name?"

Kamui takes a moment to think about it, racking his brain for a name, or even just the hint of one. A vague sound comes to mind, and he asks, "Did it start with an S?"

"No," Asra says, shaking his head with a gentle, patient smile.

"Must not have left a lasting impression," Julian comments, eye darting curiously around at the woods before him.

"You've met him before, too," Asra notes. That gets Julian to look, his silver eye going wide.

"Wait, really? When?"

"You wouldn't remember. No one remembers him for very long," Asra explains.

"Alright, so this is some magic thing. What makes you remember him?"

"I've already asked that question before, Jules," Kamui pipes up. He peers over his shoulder at where the doctor walks a few paces behind them, following their lead. "It's a secret, apparently."

Julian grins sarcastically. "How very mysterious. I should start getting used to everything being in riddles now that I'm dating a magician, shouldn't I?"

Kamui waves his hand with a bit of a flourish, a light dusting of glitter following in its wake, just to be extra. "I don't know, should you?" he cryptically asks.

"Oh, hold on. I think I know this one," Julian jokes, earning an amused grin from Kamui.

It isn't long before they enter a clearing, a small stone hut built beneath the winding roots of a large tree. The sight is familiar, and confirms a few of Kamui's suspicions about it. It's both a pleasant sight and a nervewracking one; a place where he got cuddly with Asra before a roaring fire, but also a place he has a spotty memory of, a place where it was bound to happen again before the day was up. It unsettled him, but he was willing to do it. For Julian.

"Well, this is rather quaint, isn't it?" Julian comments.

"We should hurry inside. I think I can smell rain," Asra says, heading right up to the front door, where the sigils react to his touch right away. He holds the door open for Kamui, and steps inside right afterwards, leaving Julian to shut the door behind them.

The fireplace is already lit, further confirming Kamui's suspicions. However, despite that, the hut was unoccupied, aside from the three of them. Kamui turns to Asra, who's glancing around with an unreadably neutral expression, before turning to Julian, who is more-or-less snooping, investigating the area for whatever secrets it may hold.

"Your friend seems like quite the recluse," Julian muses. "Is he going to be happy finding three people waltzing into his home like this?"

"If it was just me, sure," Asra says, to which Kamui immediately turns to him in offense.

"What's he got against me?" Kamui asks.

There's a look on Asra's face, something like worry or apprehension, as he turns to his apprentice. "I don't know," he says. "I've been trying to get the two of you to get along for awhile now, but he isn't very... receptive. And I feel like it's only gotten worse recently. Not through any fault of yours, though, Kamui."

Kamui makes a face, unsatisfied with that response. It didn't sit right with him that a friend of Asra's wasn't also a friend of his, or at the very least an acquaintance with a favorable opinion of him.

Taking another look around at the interior of the shack, he starts piecing together an idea of the man in question in his head. Someone who didn't like him, that lived a simple, reclusive life in the forest, without a proper bed, no space for his clothes or food or any decor at all...

Yeah, no. He had a feeling he knew why they didn't get along. There was no way in hell he could relate to any of this. Beyond the novelty of it all, it was just so... drab. Horribly lonely, too.

But at the same time, it made sense to him why Asra didn't have the same problem. He probably would have slept directly on the forest floor if not for the fact that Kamui had gone with him the last time he travelled. It had happened more than once that Asra would come home from some grand adventure to have Kamui picking leaves and twigs from his hair.

Of course they were friends. The travelling magician with bugs in his hair and the mountain man who slept in a bed made of twigs and animal furs.

"He shouldn't be far from here," Asra says. "I'll go look for him. Don't go anywhere, okay? And don't answer the door."

"I know, I know. Not even for you," Kamui recites. Asra gives him a small smile, one which quickly fades as he turns to step outside the cabin. He waits until he can see the sigil glowing in the wood before turning to look for Julian.

He finds the man investigating an alcove in the corner of the hut, where a carved statue of a bear rests on the top shelf. Kamui finds it curious to note that the top shelf is even taller than Julian is.

"Huh. I've got one just like it," he notes, glancing over his shoulder at Kamui, who steps up beside him. His expression morphs into something more forlorn as he says, "It's a raven, though. Asra gave it to me..."

"Do you still have—" Kamui starts to ask, only to be interrupted by a sneeze that takes him completely by surprise. Julian turns to him in surprise, and Kamui can _feel_ him shifting into mother hen mode.

"Oh, are you cold? You should have told me, Kamui, I don't want you to suffer on my behalf."

Kamui tugs on his shawl, wrapping it tighter around himself. He hadn't even noticed it before, but, now that he mentioned it...

Julian places a hand on either of Kamui's shoulders, spinning him to face the fireplace. "Let's get you warmed up," he says, patting Kamui's shoulders before leading him over towards the hearth. Julian leaves him to stand right in front of it, gathering up a sizeable collection of furs which he arranges into a makeshift chair in front of the fire.

"It's no plush palace chaise, but it'll do in a pinch," he says, setting his hands on his hips and regarding his work with a look of pride. He gestures invitingly towards it, and, with an amused smile, Kamui perches on top of it, folding his legs off to the side. It was surprisingly comfortable, no lumps to be found.

"Hmm, good work, Jules," Kamui praises, congratulating the doctor on his hard work. Julian swells, looking particularly chuffed as he heads for the hearth, kneeling beside it and setting to work poking the fire to burn a bit higher. In the meantime, Kamui shivers, regretting his choice of clothing just as much as Asra had said he would. It was a lot colder out here than it was in the city, for whatever reason.

Julian raises to his feet. "There, fire's lit," he announces, hands on his hips. Kamui reaches up, wrapping both hands around his forearm and tugging him down to sit on the furs with him. It doesn't work out quite as expected, ending with Julian sitting on Kamui's lap.

Once Julian sees where he's ended up, the momentary panic subsides, and a lascivious grin spreads across his thin lips. With Kamui's arms wrapping around his waist, he gets comfortable, turning his torso to face Kamui and cupping his face. Kamui leans into the touch, sighing pleasantly.

"Well well, isn't this cliché? Two lovers, alone in the woods, warming up before a roaring fire?" Julian starts, leaning in to press his lips to the corner of Kamui's mouth. He lingers, the firm caress of his lips surprisingly tender despite the positioning. Kamui bites his lip, staring longingly into Julian's silver eye. "Thankfully, I love the classics."

Julian leans in again, this time meeting Kamui's lips directly. He exhales a sharp breath through his nose, hands dragging up over the back of Julian's waistcoat and pulling him even closer.

Julian's hands shift from Kamui's face to his sides, rubbing warmth into his skin. It wasn't as effective with the leather gloves on, but Kamui wasn't about to tell him to stop. Eventually they find their way up over his back, beneath the knit shawl, leather meeting skin and causing him to arch his back reflexively.

"Oho? What's this...?" Julian purrs, pulling away momentarily. His hands massage the bare skin of Kamui's shoulderblades. "I didn't realize you were so dressed up."

Devious, Kamui pulls the shawl from his shoulders, letting it drift to the ground beside them. He leans back against Julian's hands, curving his spine just so to show off the visible line of his chest. "Maybe," he responds, enthralled by the hungry look in Julian's eye as it roams over Kamui's bare skin. "Do you like it?"

Julian leans in to press a kiss to the side of Kamui's neck, right above the collar. "You look positively delectable," he purrs, hands trailing down to grip Kamui's sides as he dips down, kissing up the full length of Kamui's chest. Kamui gasps, not expecting it, his breaths growing more rapid as Julian makes his way up to the collar, nipping at it with his teeth. It comes awfully close to pinching his flesh, and he gasps, arching his back.

He tugs his lip between his teeth as Julian moves up to his neck, trailing kisses all the way to the space behind his ear. He shivers, letting out a soft sound like a whimper. He can feel the imprint of Julian's resulting smile against his skin.

That causes something dark to flare up inside of him, and he yanks on Julian's hair, diving in to sink his teeth into the side of his neck, right over his pulse point. Julian lets out a startled noise which quickly turns into a groan of pleasure, his hands twitching against Kamui's sides. His arms find their way to wrap around Kamui's shoulders, a hand in snowy white hair urging Kamui in even closer.

It's been awhile since he was actively encouraged to be so aggressive; the feel of his teeth popping through a layer of flesh provides a unique kind of thrill that he definitely shouldn't be indulging in right now.

Pulling away to lick the blood clean from Julian's pale neck, he does his best to ignore how disappointing it is watching the wound seal up near immediately afterwards. The effect of it still lingers, anyway, Julian's skin a thick, deep red all the way to his ears, breaths coming out shallow and stuttering. The hand in Kamui's hair loosens its grip, combing affectionately through the strands.

"Ohhh," Julian groans, "Oh, I missed you." He pulls away just to aim a kiss to Kamui's jaw, and several more along the side of his face. Kamui turns his head to capture Julian's lips in a heated kiss, nibbling lightly at the man's bottom lip and hearing him whimper in response.

"Nothing like a little pain to really make you feel alive, right?" Kamui says lowly. The look Julian gives him at that is absolutely delicious.

"Oh, you spoil me," he purrs.

"I'd like to."

Without thinking, he starts pawing at Julian's waistcoat, too busy focusing on the feel of Julian's lips meeting together with his, the little groans and whimpers and soft pleas he makes, the way it warms him up so much hotter than the fireplace ever could, to realize what a bad idea it would be to get carried away.

The door flies open suddenly, startling the two lovers into parting, Kamui's hands flying to Julian's arms to catch him before he can fall and potentially set his hair on fire. Kamui turns, expecting to see Asra, but instead comes face to face with probably the largest man he'd ever seen, with shaggy black hair and a wild look in his forest green eyes. There's a thick cloak in his arms with something dark bundled up inside of it, but Kamui hardly has the time to think about that before the man speaks.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he asks, looking more perturbed than genuinely angry as his eyes fall in the general direction of the two men. Kamui assumes he must mean the general 'you'.

"Oh, uh, hello there," Julian starts, attempting to look as casual as possible despite being perched atop Kamui's lap. The man's eyes narrow, flicking over the two with a look of distaste and suspicion. "Wow you're a big one aren't you. Uhh, we came here looking for you—"

"Get out," the man says, his eyes narrowed into a nasty glare, arms tightening protectively around the bundle in his arms. His voice is deep and booming, yet not the slightest bit threatening. There's something so gentle about it. The kind of sound you'd want to hear more of, maybe lulling you gently to sleep.

Keeping an eye out on the general location of his visitors, he lumbers deeper inside the hut, maintaining a cautious distance. Something inside the bundle in his arms moves, and Kamui's eyes widen.

It doesn't escape Julian's notice, either. "What, uh, what have you got there?" he tries. In response, the bundle whines, a dark head of thick fur poking out the top, revealing bright yellow eyes.

Kamui tenses. _Why did it have to be a wolf?_

Julian seems to have the exact opposite response, leaning forward to get a better look, only to have the man lean back, visibly distrusting. "Oh, well, hello there," Julian says, looking directly at the wolf as he speaks. He raises his gaze up to the man, who avoids direct eye contact. "Is... is it hurt?"

The man gives a very, very slow nod in response, all the muscles in his body taut, tense.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm a doctor. Maybe I can help."

"No," comes the man's immediate response, his expression darkening. "Keep your hands off her."

He kneels down by the bed, carefully laying the bundle down among the furs. He hovers over the top of it, like a mama cat protecting her young, ready to pounce should anyone get too close.

"We can help," Kamui says, surprised to see the man startle in response, like he hadn't expected to hear Kamui speak. A few different emotions cross his face, each one as easy to read as the last; fear, distrust, suspicion, landing finally on a petulant look of disgust, glaring down at Kamui's torso.

"Come, now," Julian starts, using a voice Kamui could imagine he used on some of his old patients, "Look, I promise, if I make it worse you can choke me out yourself."

He removes his gloves, setting them aside and slowly, cautiously sliding off of Kamui's lap, crawling over to reach toward the bundle on the bed. The man tenses, an arm wrapping around the wolf, slowly easing back the more Julian reaches out, the doctor's movements slow so as not to startle anyone into lashing out against him. Despite that, the man shakes his head vehemently, refusing to let Julian get anywhere close.

He pulls back with a sigh, clearly realizing he was playing a losing game. He looks helplessly back at Kamui, who just mirrors his expression. What was he supposed to do to help? Asra already said his friend didn't like him, how was his word supposed to mean anything?

Although... if _his_ word wasn't enough, then... "Asra brought us here. He said you could help us."

The second the magician's name leaves his lips, the man's face colors, a sizable amount of tension draining out of his body. With a soft, closed mouth sigh, the man's eyes drift shut, and he edges away from the wolf, allowing Julian to get close. The second he does, the wolf reacts harshly, snapping at the air near his fingers, causing him to flinch away, shocked. A massive, tanned hand strokes through the wolf's coarse fur, soothing her into remaining docile.

This time Julian's able to get close, carefully examining the wolf's bloodied body. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it," he says, brows drawn together in concentration. He runs a hand over the deep gouges in the wolf's side, free hand smoothing over the wolf's head, petting her. "You must be in a lot of pain, aren't you, girl?"

The mark on his neck flares beneath his collar, starting the large man nearby him. Kamui tenses, swinging his legs around the side of the fur pile beneath him, prepared to catch Julian should he get dizzy. As the gouges in the wolf's side start to knit together, thick stripes of blood seep through the sleeve of Julian's waistcoat, beginning to ooze down the side. It doesn't last long, the wounds sealing up enough to cease the flow of blood within seconds.

He leans back, and the man immediately descends upon the wolf, checking her over for injuries, examining her teeth, eyes, ears. After exhausting his search, he settles back with a soft sigh of relief. "...Thank you," he mumbles, looking anywhere but at Julian, to which the doctor gives him a dashing smile.

"No problem, it's what I'm here for," he says. He stands, swaying dangerously, and Kamui is immediately on his feet to support him, leading him over to rest on a nearby stool.

It's around then that Kamui notices Asra standing in the doorway, looking a little stunned, violet eyes fixed on the line of Julian's throat. There's something complex in his eyes that Kamui isn't sure how to place; concern, maybe? It quickly fades as he makes eye contact with Muriel, who also looks surprised to see him, not having heard him come in.

"Muri. It's good to see you," he says, smiling warmly over at his friend. The man's face colors slightly, and he looks away. "I was looking for you. We must have just missed each other." His eyes land on the wolf huddled up close at the man's side, his expression marring with concern. "What happened?"

A shadow falls over the man's eyes. "You know what happened," he says.

"What? He shouldn't be able to do something like that," Asra says, eyes wide with shock. He steps farther inside the hut, coming to a kneel beside the wolf, who nudges a little closer to him, her eyes wide and trusting. He smooths a hand over her head, scratching behind her ears. "Have you been checking the charms around this place?"

"Yes," the man responds.

"And they're intact?"

"...Most of them."

Asra's brows crease. "Already? That can't be good."

Clueless, Julian sends Kamui a questioning look, only to have him shrug in response. In truth, he only had a partial idea what they were talking about, the rest of it all just guessing, and it was a little too complicated to get into right now. So, rather than responding, Kamui reaches behind him for his shawl, wrapping it back around himself before turning back to Julian.

"You're alright?" he asks, just to be sure. Curse or not, those wounds had looked pretty intense. Julian sends him a wobbly, reassuring smile.

"Perfectly fine, my dear," he says, reaching forward to smooth a hand over Kamui's cheek. He can feel eyes burning into the back of his head right away, but ignores it, leaning into the touch. "Just a bit of a dizzy spell. Not to worry, I'll be right as rain in a moment."

Kamui readjusts, sitting up on his knees. "Hold on, let me..." He reaches for Julian's arm, and the man tilts it towards him, giving a clearer view of where the blood stains his jacket. A hand rests at his elbow while the other draws the fresh blood from his coat, putting in a little extra effort to try and pull from the skin beneath the fabric as well.

"Oh, that feels odd," Julian comments, shivering. While Kamui evaporates the thick crimson liquid in waves, Julian asks, "Do you do this a lot?"

"Not with blood, usually," Kamui says, a little distracted by the focus required to cast his magic. "I wear white, Julian. _Everything_ stains my clothes."

That pulls a bit of a laugh from Julian's throat. "So that's your secret, hmm? I just wear a lot of black instead," he quips.

Once the blood's all been drawn out, Julian looks over to where Asra sits with his large friend, the wolf laying her head in the magician's lap. "So, uh, are you going to introduce us to your friend here?" he asks.

Asra blinks, a small smile gracing his lips. "Oh, right. This is Muriel," he says. He turns to look up at the man beside him. "Muriel, this is—"

"I know," he says, staring over at the door, an edge of discomfort to his expression.

"So, ah, Muriel, then," Julian starts, and immediately Muriel's brow twitches, his expression twisting with irritation. "A, er, strong name?"

"Get to the point."

"Right!" Julian glances over to Asra, surprised to find the magician already looking at him, following along in the conversation. Julian turns a slight shade of pink, quickly turning away. "Asra said you could help us. Although, he, ah, didn't exactly say how."

Asra peers up at Muriel, studying his reaction. His emerald eyes fall shut with a quiet, but plainly exasperated closed mouth sigh, before opening, his focus turned on Kamui, who shrinks a bit under the sudden weight of his gaze. He nods towards the door, eyes sliding over in its direction, narrowed into a glare. "You... follow me. We need more firewood."

He raises to his feet without waiting for anyone's input, shouldering past the door into the woods outside. Eyes wide, Kamui glances helplessly between the door and Asra, who looks just as confused as he does. The magician offers up a shrug, and Kamui sighs through his teeth, getting up to follow Muriel outside.

Hurrying to catch up with the mountainous man's unforgivingly wide steps, the two end up outside a small hut not far from the main building, where logs are piled high inside. Monotonously, Muriel goes through the motions of lifting a log, slicing it in half with a nearby axe, and pushing the logs aside to chop another one.

Cautious, Kamui inches closer, lifting one of the chopped logs without a care to how close the axe swings down on the next log beside him. However, Muriel startles, as if he'd been only inches away from chopping off one of Kamui's limbs by mistake. He gives the significantly taller man a curious look before piling the chopped logs under his arm. Catching wind of Kamui's intentions in being so close, Muriel relaxes, although not entirely.

"So, Muriel," Kamui starts, eager to get a dialogue going, since he assumed that's what the true purpose of this diversion was. To his surprise, Muriel immediately speaks up, cutting off the rest of what Kamui'd been about to say.

"What are you doing?" he asks. The question is so vague that Kamui has no idea how to respond. Literally? Or was he meant to read into the question to some degree? ...But to what degree, exactly?

"What do you mean?"

Muriel sighs through his teeth, appearing a bit frustrated, although for what reason, Kamui couldn't be sure. "With _him_ ," he clarifies, disdain oozing freely from his tone, so hateful it takes Kamui completely by surprise.

"You mean Julian," Kamui guesses. It likely wasn't anything new for him to be seen with Asra, if they'd apparently met Muriel together only a few days prior. There's no response, just more logs being cut, leading Kamui to believe he'd guessed correctly. "I'm trying to clear his name. He's wanted for murder—I don't know if you know that. The Countess wants me to bring him in, so he can be executed, but I don't believe he's the real culprit. Asra said you might know something that could help prove his innocence."

Scooping up more of the logs, he takes the chance to lean more within Muriel's field of view, peering up at his expression. He looks disgruntled, for whatever reason. Was Kamui's answer not what he wanted? Or was he upset that Kamui would be trying to help someone Muriel clearly didn't much care for? It was hard to tell, he was so quiet.

With a sigh Muriel's shoulders slump, and he discards the axe by the shed. Kamui quickly checks for any remaining logs, finding them all already tucked under his arm. "Let's go," Muriel says, something strangely morose about his tone.

The two head back for the main hut, Kamui taking the lead as Muriel skulks several steps behind. Right as Kamui's about to reach out to push open the door, he hears talking coming from inside, and hesitates. He holds out his arm, blocking Muriel from coming any closer. At the almost offended sound of Muriel's resulting huff, Kamui turns with a finger held up to his mouth, silently shushing him. Muriel raises a brow, but complies, looking a bit impatient as Kamui presses his ear to the door.

"You don't believe me, do you," Asra is saying, his voice soft and muffled behind the wooden door. It's difficult to make out his tone.

"No, I—I do, it's just, really hard to wrap my head around. Back then, I would have—"

"I know." Asra sighs. "I don't know what to tell you. Kamui is..."

"I get it. He means a lot to you, doesn't he?"

"He—" Asra cuts off, like the syllable had choked him. A few seconds pass in silence before he says, "Kamui is _everything_."

The confession takes Kamui by surprise, his heart pounding harshly against his chest, blood rushing to his face. _Everything?_ Really...?

Judging by the lack of response, it must have garnered a similar stunned reaction from Julian, as well.

With a sharp intake of breath, Kamui spares a glance up at Muriel, whose body is wound up tight, a cold, harsh look aimed in Kamui's direction. He doesn't bother redirecting his gaze once he sees he's been caught. Rather, he allows the look to linger, until growing uncomfortable with the eye contact and turning away.

It dawns on him, then. The real reason Muriel doesn't like him.

"I," Julian starts, stumbling over his words for a bit before managing anything coherent, "I should have expected that. I, uh. You should know that I—that is, that I... about you, I still..."

He trails off, silence creeping back in for a horrible, tense several seconds before Asra speaks up. "I know, Ilya."

"You—You do?"

"You're not subtle."

"...Oh."

Another tense pause, before Asra speaks up again. "I don't know what to say."

"It's alright. I wasn't expecting anything, I just—I just wanted you to know," Julian says, trailing off. The sound carries just enough that Kamui can make out the doleful tone of his voice. His brows crease with sympathy. He wished he could—

With an impatient sigh, Muriel shoulders past him, shoving open the door and trudging inside. Startled, Kamui snaps to attention, scurrying to keep up with him. Before he can turn to close the door, however, he catches sight of a mark glowing on the center of Muriel's bare back, the same tall, bright light he'd seen several times before, only a little different in design. The sight of it causes him to fumble, nearly dropping the logs.

Julian jumps to his feet, swaying only slightly before catching himself on a nearby table. "Kamui! Who's this big brute you've got with you?! Did he try to hurt you?"

Muriel startles at the sudden, loud sound of Julian's voice, but quickly settles, turning back to Kamui and nodding towards the fireplace. He quickly gets the hint, stepping over to the fire to arrange some of the logs inside.

" _Ilya_ ," Asra says firmly, not unlike a scolding parent and their misbehaving child. Immediately Julian begins to wilt, turning back to look at him with a wide eye.

"Oh. This is... your friend, isn't it," he says lamely. "Well! Good work, Kamui. You found him."

"He was just here," Kamui says, peering over his shoulder at the doctor. "You really don't remember?"

"He was? Are you sure? I feel like I'd remember such a hulking presence," Julian says, raising a brow at Kamui like the man was trying to pull the wool over his eyes.

"You wouldn't," Muriel says, eyes falling shut as he returns to his spot on the bed next to the wolf. "People... forget me."

"They... forget you? Just like that?" The information seems to unsettle him just as much as it had for Kamui, and he drops back into the stool, looking a little numb. "Right. The—The magic thing," he mutters, gesturing vaguely with his hand.

Muriel stares down at the wolf, one of his massive hands stroking slowly over her back. There's an uncomfortable look on his face as he says, "Don't you have... questions, or something, for me."

Kamui leans back on his haunches, looking more to Muriel's hand than his face, hoping it would make him feel more relaxed. "How did you get that mark?" he very bluntly asks. Asra shoots him some sort of look, as does Julian, but Kamui ignores both of them.

There's a moment of silence, during which Kamui suspects he might have lost him—the mark was on his back, after all, did he even know it was there?—before Muriel speaks up. "I helped a friend," he says, his voice hushed, like it was something he shouldn't say. "And I was rewarded in turn."

Rewarded? _This_ was a reward? It sounded like a complete nightmare. If he woke up one day and Asra didn't recognize him... how would he be able to cope with that? With being alone, fading into obscurity? Without thinking, he asks, "But, why? Does being forgotten make you happy?"

He can't help but look up, into Muriel's eyes, watching the look of bemusement cross his features. Like Kamui's question was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard, impossible to comprehend. "Happy...? What's that got to do with it?"

"Oh, I keep asking myself the same thing," Julian comments, his humorous, albeit dark tone at odds with the budding turmoil in Kamui's heart. "Seems like we're kindred spirits."

The glare that crosses Muriel's face is positively murderous. "No, we aren't."

A tense silence falls over the hut, then. Kamui glances from Asra, who is subtly cringing at how badly everything seems to be going, to Muriel, with his brows furrowed in distaste, to Julian, who seems to be searching for the right thing to say to salvage the situation. Kamui wasn't so sure where he fit in to all of this. As a result, he keeps his mouth shut.

Taking a deep breath, Julian asks, "Er, well. Muriel. Can I call you Muriel?"

"No."

"Uh. Right," Julian says, exchanging a glance with Kamui, who shrugs helplessly in response. "Let me just get to the point then, and we'll be out of your hair."

He digs around in his jacket, eventually producing the red key he'd found in his desk inside the palace library. "Recognize this?" he asks, with a bold smirk like he'd just performed some kind of magic trick.

"Yes," Muriel says.

Julian blinks. "Oh! Well, grand, then," he says, and waits patiently for Muriel's response. Which. Never comes. Julian's smile grows tense, before disappearing entirely. "Uh, care to elaborate?"

With a sigh, Muriel's shoulders slump, resigned. "It was the night..." he trails off, taking a deep breath. "The night of the fire." His eyes slide over in Asra's direction. "Asra sent me to find you."

Julian's eye widens. "He was there? _You_ were there? Why don't I remember any of this?"

Muriel just stares into the distance for a bit, looking an awful lot like Asra did whenever he was really uncomfortable; retreated into his head, three million miles away. Except this also looked very annoyed, like a parent kept up all night, longing for peace and quiet. Eventually he comes back to the present, turning in Julian's direction and saying, "You were locked in a dungeon."

"Locked in a... _before_ the murder?" Julian repeats, frowning as he attempts to process this information. "What for?"

"I don't know. But I let you out." Muriel frowns, glaring down at his hand, where it rests over the wolf's fur. "I led you up to... his room... L..." With a frustrated sigh, his eyes fall shut, and he continues, "You know. Him. The room was already on fire. You ran in, I left."

Silence creeps back in, drowning out all the background noise in the room, muffled to a dull roar. Kamui turns to look up at Julian. The man's single visible eye is wide with shock, gawking wordlessly at the large man across the room from him, seeing nothing. His voice is a bit off-kilter as he repeats, "The room was... already on fire...?" One of his hands raises to touch the tip of his chin, his gaze falling to the floor. "I'm innocent...?"

"Julian..." Kamui starts, for some reason getting a bad feeling that causes him to turn fully towards the man in question.

The hand at his chin turns, and he stares mutely down at the murderer's brand on the back, a harsh contrast to his stark white skin. His hand trembles.

"I'm _innocent_?" he repeats, a cynical grin spreading across his thin lips. He lets out a dry, nervous laugh, a touch breathless, like it was outside his control. "I'm innocent."

Swallowing hard, Kamui considers crawling closer, wrapping a hand around one of Julian's, but he's getting a very plainly worded warning to stay away. He didn't understand the reaction. Wasn't he happy? This was _proof_ , they could clear his name with this alone.

The hand raises up to his eyepatch, one of his fingers getting caught under the string. "I remember now. I was in the dungeon that night, working on a cure. I wasn't working fast enough; Lucio locked me down there to incentivize me. Said it'd keep me from getting distracted," he spits, sneering at the memory.

His hand swipes upwards, like he was about to run it through his hair, but instead his fingers brush under the patch, tugging the string free, letting it flutter to the ground without a care. With an unsteady breath, he turns to look directly at Kamui, who blinks up at him, stunned.

Unused to being so exposed, his right eye slowly blinks open, adjusting to the light. The silver of his iris is even brighter than usual with the harsh red glow of his sclera. Kamui can't help the gasp that tears out of his throat at the sight. Something about the vibrant, glowing crimson laces fear through his chest.

"And I did it," Julian continues, sounding both triumphant and vindicated. "I _found_ the cure. I was dying, but the cure, it worked. And it could still be down there, in that dungeon. All my work, my research, it's down there."

He jumps to his feet suddenly, smiling wide. "That's it! That's where we have to go." A little stunned, all Kamui can manage to do is stare up at him, subconsciously mirroring his expression. In a rush, Julian kneels down in front of him, cupping his face and drawing him in for a nearly suffocating kiss. It leaves him dizzy when they part, a goofy smile stuck on his face, and he sways slightly towards Julian.

A cool hand grasps one of his, tugging him to his feet; Kamui just barely manages to scoop Julian's eyepatch up off the floor before being pulled toward the door. He looks over his shoulder at Asra, who has a smile both exasperated and fond as he raises a hand, giving a small wave.

They dart through the door and into the forest proper, not stopping for even a second.


	9. Wheel of Fortune

The sun is shining high in the sky by the time they make it to the palace. Through some combination of luck and spellcasting they arrive at Portia's cottage undetected. Showing up uninvited on her doorstep nearly throws her into a panic, grasping her brother's wrist and yanking him inside before he can get a word in edgewise.

Once she's able to cool her surge of alarm, the three gather around the dining table, with Pepi fast asleep in a nearby wicker basket. "You're really putting me on the spot with this one, guys," Portia deadpans, staring off to the side in thought.

"It's alright, Pasha. We could just use another spell again, right? No one will bat an eyelash at seeing Kamui travel with his master," Julian says, looking to Kamui for approval, but meeting with a grimace instead.

"First, he's not my master, he's my partner," Kamui quickly reiterates, continuing before anyone can question that statement. "Second, I don't have the kind of power to keep you disguised for that long. Maybe Asra could, or maybe we both could, but I can't."

Julian chews on his lip. "Damn."

"If it's a disguise you want," Portia starts, her eyes lighting up a bit as she turns to the two men. A devious smile flashes on her face. "I think _maybe_ I can provide. Just give me... half an hour, tops." She raises to her feet, heading for the door. But before she can step outside, she turns to her brother with her lip curled in disgust. She jabs a finger at him accusingly. "And behave yourself. This is a sacred place, you'll scar Pepi for life."

"Pasha, please. I'm a perfect gentlemen," Julian retorts. Unconvinced, she raises a brow, her expression icy. Cobalt eyes land on Kamui.

"Put a leash on him," she says.

"Ohhh, a leash you say?" Julian purrs, making eyes at Kamui from across the table. Portia audibly gags.

"Eugh. Kill me," she groans, quickly turning and stomping out of the cottage. Julian bursts out laughing, which spreads to Kamui, until they're both left giggling like children.

With her gone, the two settle comfortably around the table, trading stories while they wait for Portia's return. Thankfully Julian has a lot more to tell. There was only so much that could be said about Kamui's life, while Julian's was full of adventure and, at times, misadventure.

It left him feeling wistful, wondering what it would be like if he could just... leave. Get on board a ship, visit a foreign land, eat weird food and meet new creatures, like the one Asra had shown him on their trip to Nopal. There was so much to the world that he hadn't seen.

"Do you think," Kamui starts, in the middle of a lull between stories, "The three of us... maybe we could travel the world together, once all this is over."

" _All_ three of us?" Julian asks, brows rising. He tries for a grin, but it just looks forced. "You're sure he could tolerate me for that long?"

With a tilt of his head, Kamui says, "Things between you two don't strike me as particularly hostile. You could be friends, if you took the time."

Julian scoffs. "Isn't that a thought? If you'd told me that only a few days ago, I might be inclined to think you were full of it," he says, shaking his head. "And here you are, bringing people together. Fancy yourself a matchmaker, do you?"

Aiming a particularly devious smile in Julian's direction, Kamui says, "You'd be cute together." It has the intended effect of making Julian choke on inhale.

"Ohhh, you are... really, _really_ ," Julian starts, seemingly unable to find the proper words to continue as he covers his own mouth, staring at the wall nearby with a laser focus.

"Really, really handsome, I know," Kamui laughs, pleased when Julian does the same, even if it does come out a little sarcastic sounding.

Julian shakes his head with a small sigh. "He doesn't see me that way," he says. The look on his face plainly spells out his disappointment. "It's over, anyway. Done. Buried. No need to go digging it up, really."

"You mean, like you were, back at the hut?"

If Julian choked anymore on absolutely nothing, Kamui might start to believe he'd caught a cold out there in those woods. He makes a strange noise, somewhere between a laugh and a dying whale, awkwardly shifting in his seat. "You are, really, really, _nosy_ , aren't you? Eavesdropping on a private conversation?"

It was hard to tell if the doctor was actually upset with him, or just a bit uncomfortable with their current topic. "It's where I get my thrills," Kamui jokes, keeping the mood light. "I've just, uh, got a bit of a vested interest. I want the two of you to be happy. And it would make me really happy to see you two together. It seems like that's what you want, and for Asra… I wonder sometimes."

The doctor just nods, looking at once thoughtful and disbelieving, hopeless. "I'd rather not… Well, it all fell apart the first time," he says. "It's better this way."

With a sigh, Kamui leans forward on the table, peering up at his brooding lover. "You say things like that a lot, but it's not what you really feel at all, is it?" As his words set in, he can see Julian's throat bobbing, tense, before looking away entirely. There's no response, but Kamui supposes there doesn't really need to be, so long as he was thinking about it.

He lets the silence linger for awhile. It would be good for both of them to slow down a bit, especially after all the running through town and evading the law they'd been doing.

Eventually, he speaks up. "Hey, Jules." The doctor looks to him with a curious, but otherwise neutral expression. "If you had a million coin, what would you spend it on?"

That draws a startled, huffing laugh out of the doctor. "Been daydreaming, have you?" he laughs. Kamui nods a little, feeling his spirits lift with the humored smile that spreads over Julian's thin lips. That was more like it. "Mmm, a million? Could I buy my own country with that?"

"Oh, looking to be royalty, are we?" Kamui teases, leaning forward into Julian's space a bit to poke at the doctor's sides. The simple action forces something that could only be described as a _giggle_ out of the doctor's throat. "Oh? Someone's ticklish," Kamui purrs, an absolutely devilish grin on his face.

" _Don't_ ," Julian warns, his silver eye wide with alarm, but Kamui just inches in closer, baring his claws like a cat preparing to strike. Julian leans back, one hand on the table and the other on the back of his chair to keep his balance. "No, no no—"

Kamui leaps for him, but the doctor acts faster, jumping out of his seat and away from his grasp. He ends up in Julian's chair, skidding across the seat and nearly knocking the cushion to the floor. "Huh. Slippery," he mumbles to himself.

"No tickling," Julian says, holding up both hands as if he was prepared to stop Kamui should the man try to rush him. Which was his exact plan, and the doctor wasn't much accounting for height.

"Oh, no, you can't escape from _these_ hands, Devorak," Kamui taunts, slowly raising up from the chair. Julian takes a step back.

"Normally, I wouldn't want to, but..." Julian spares a glance over his shoulder, just to make sure he wouldn't knock into anything if he suddenly needed to make a break for it. It was his first mistake.

Kamui tackles him, casting a quick spell behind the doctor's back to cushion his fall, like a soft, but firm mattress waited for him, and not the cold, hard floor. He hits the ground with an _oof_ , the air momentarily knocked from his lungs. Kamui straddles his hips, making quick work of Julian's waistcoat to get at the bare skin underneath.

"W-Wait—" Julian calls out, immediately cut off by the sound of his own laughter as Kamui assaults his torso with tickles. Julian tries to push him away, but he's either not trying very hard, or he's too distracted to use his limbs properly. With the size of his arms, he could easily shove Kamui aside if he _really_ wanted to.

The sound of Julian's raucous laughter echoes throughout the room. The expression on his face makes Kamui's chest warm—so unguarded and carefree. Even if it was just a reflexive reaction, it was beautiful.

Kamui realizes with a bit of a start that he would do _anything_ to protect Julian's smile, and if that isn't the worst, cheesiest thing he's ever thought, then he's not so sure what is.

Eventually he relents, laying his hands low on Julian's waist, letting the man catch his breath. "Oh, you—you are—a _demon_ ," Julian pants. The giddy smile lingers on his face as he wipes carefully at his watery eyes, giving Kamui a slight peek under the eyepatch in the process.

Kamui chuckles. "Where else are you ticklish? Everywhere?"

"Like I'd give away those kinds of secrets for free," Julian scoffs. "And to you, no less. I think I'd suffocate."

"What's the price of a tickle spot? Barter with me."

Julian raises a brow, his chest rising and falling with the aftermath of his laughing fit. "What are they worth to you?"

With a mischievous curl of his lips, Kamui makes a show out of pretending to think about it, before leaning in and whispering, "Mmm, for one... I'll suck you off."

The seductive lilt of his voice, alongside the suggestion therein, turn Julian red all the way to his ears. Lips flapping uselessly, the best he can manage is an incomprehensible sputter. In response, Kamui giggles like mad, pulling his hands off Julian's waist to cover his own mouth. "Oh my god, I was kidding. The look on your face."

Julian covers his face behind both hands. "Ohhh, you really are a demon," he groans. Kamui still just laughs, lowering his hands back onto Julian's torso. With a thoughtful hum he reaches for one of Julian's arms, a silver eye watching him curiously as he hikes up the glove, lightly brushing his fingertips over a cold wrist. Immediately Julian tears his hand away, Kamui's eyes going wide, stunned.

" _Really_? Your wrists??"

Julian throws his head back with a groan. "Is this some kind of fetish? Is this how I find out?"

Kamui laughs, shaking his head. "No, but I think I could get pretty addicted to staring at you when you look like that."

A pale blush coats Julian's cheeks, his expression almost sheepish as he asks, "Like what?" His second mistake.

"Like... this!" Kamui dives in for Julian's ribs, resuming the tickling from earlier. Julian makes something resembling a snort before bursting into a fit of giggles, squirming to angle his body away from Kamui's hands. He doesn't accomplish much with Kamui weighing him down, however.

It doesn't last long this time, only enough for the giddy look on Julian's face to linger awhile afterwards. Kamui caresses his cheeks, burning hot beneath his palms, and stares longingly down at him. After Julian catches his breath, he spots the look Kamui's giving him, and draws his lip between his teeth. There's no way to know for sure how he looks right now, but it's enough to cause Julian to melt, head tilting to lean against one of Kamui's palms.

"This look is good too," Kamui whispers. He exhales a laugh, "But, I could say that about every face you make. You're beautiful, Julian."

Shock flickers in Julian's eye. "I—I'm really not," he dismisses. It catches Kamui by surprise. He was used to deflections, not straight up refusals. His brows furrow with concern.

"Of course you are, what are you talking about?"

Julian lets out a cynical sounding laugh. "You're the one who's beautiful here, my dear, not me," he insists. "I don't even know what you see in me. I'm so awkward and creepy looking, and you're like… you're like…"

"A God," Kamui arrogantly—and jokingly, he supposes—finishes. "And I have good taste." His hand traces the line of Julian's face, from his sharp cheekbones down to the cut of his jaw. Where does he even begin? It's baffling to him that someone could look this way and not understand their own appeal. "You're really good-looking, I don't even know where to start with how wrong you are."

Julian laughs, but it's bitter and sarcastic sounding. "We're going to have to agree to disagree," he says.

"I refuse," Kamui stubbornly says. "You and Asra both are completely ridiculous. Absolutely fucking stunning and you think these things."

Another laugh, just as disingenuous as before. "If you're going to compare me to _him_ , I don't think I'll even come close."

"You should tell him that, without the putting-yourself-down part. He keeps turning me down, even though he's gorgeous, and so are you." Kamui sighs. "Look, if you can believe anything, it's me when it comes to beauty. I mean, look at me. Takes one to know one and all that."

The laugh that comment earns is a lot more real, and it brings a smile to Kamui's face. Julian looks up at him, mirroring his smile. "How incredibly modest you are, my dear," he teases.

"What's the point of modesty?" Kamui asks, leaning in closer, "I'm beautiful, you're beautiful, all my friends are fucking beautiful, it's absurd." With a huffing laugh, Julian meets him halfway for a kiss. "It's almost overwhelming how pretty you two are sometimes."

There's no response, no argument as Kamui kisses him, his mind flooding with all the things he enjoyed about this man. From the curve of his lips to the shape of his hands, threading into his hair, so long and well-practiced. He wanted to kiss every inch, to burn it into Julian's mind exactly how beautiful he was, top to bottom. He couldn't be sure he'd ever be able to, to convince him how attractive he really was, but he was willing to try, try, try again.

After pulling apart for breath, Kamui doesn't stop, moving up to press a firm kiss to the side of Julian's nose, his cheekbone, several down the side of his face, and to the corner of his lips. Julian makes a noise, low in his throat, leaning up to try and steal a kiss. But Kamui dodges, wanting to pay attention to one last spot before moving on.

He reaches up, tugging Julian's eyepatch free, letting it drift to the floor beside him. Holding the sides of Julian's face still he leans in, brushing a kiss below his right eye. It closes, either from the proximity or just trying to hide, but either way, Kamui leans in to press a gentle kiss over the lid, feeling the powder of Julian's eyeshadow on his lips.

"Beautiful," Kamui whispers, hearing Julian's breath hitch. This time, he aims a kiss at Julian's mouth proper, feeling those oft-bitten lips go pliant against his. Every little noise Julian makes is like a siren's song; his unsteady breaths and low groans, so needy and pitiful. The desire to sink his claws in and keep Julian all to himself was overwhelming.

Something wet touches his cheek and he pulls away, brushing a fingertip across his face. He looks down at Julian, seeing a tear streak down his cheek before it's quickly brushed away. The sight tugs at his chest, painfully tight.

"Sorry," Julian says, hiding behind his hands as he tries to dry his eyes. "I just—Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Kamui says. He pulls Julian's hands away, not allowing him to hide. His eyes were watering, streaks of black mingling in with the wetness of his cheeks. It wasn't much, most of it likely scraped away on his gloves, but it was still obvious, like the pain was etched into every pore, visible in so much more than just the tears.

Julian's voice is unsteady as he says, "It's just, ah, no one's ever—no one's ever..."

Inhaling sharply, Kamui leans in, peppering kisses along the side of Julian's face. "Oh, Julian. My poor, neglected boy." He reaches up to wipe his tears away, not bothering to be careful with smearing; it was already a mess, he could fix it later.

A leather gloved hand presses into the back of one of Kamui's, keeping him held close as Julian leans into him. He tries for a smile, as wobbly as it is. "I ruined the mood, didn't I?"

"No, no, angel. You can cry as much as you want, it's okay," Kamui coos, leaning back and reaching for Julian's arms to pull him into a hug. To make up for the difference in height, Kamui sits up on his knees, a hand in Julian's hair as he pulls him against his shoulder.

"I'm going to ruin your scarf," Julian says, with a bit of a self-deprecating, huff of a laugh. Kamui just squeezes him tighter.

"Nonsense. I'm magic, stains are a myth." Julian gives a watery sounding laugh, while Kamui nuzzles into his hair. He runs his fingers through auburn curls, combing out tangles as gently as he can. Every now and then he can hear the soft sound of Julian sniffling, feel him move to wipe at his face, but it's calm. Not quite the shaking of a man tormented by nightmares, but upsetting all the same. The last time Kamui had seen someone cry... he hadn't been able to do much about it. He was determined to do better this time.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, to provide a distraction, he says, "You know... if I had a million coin, I'd buy a house, somewhere tropical. We can all relax together in the sun, and we could buy a boat, sail out into the open seas. You can teach me how to swim, and make sure I don't drown. Asra can show us some of his magic, too. He's really good with water."

He continues rambling, on and on about this fantasy of his, while Julian just listens, for once content to just stay silent and relax. They get so comfortable, seated on the floor that Kamui starts attempting to braid Julian's hair, although none of it was quite long enough to hold.

Eventually, Kamui sighs, saying, "We should get off the floor before Portia sees us like this. She'll think we're doing something inappropriate and kick my ass."

A startled, breathless laugh escapes Julian's throat at that. "She'll kick _your_ ass? It's funny that you don't think she'll bury us both in her backyard."

"No way, she loves you. She'll kill _me_ for defiling her baby brother."

" _'Baby_ brother'? I'm older than her," Julian says, tilting his head up. Kamui brushes some of the hair out of his eyes before leaning in to kiss his forehead.

"You're a _baby_ ," he insists, teasing. " _My_ baby."

"How old are you?"

"Shameful that you're asking this question so late in our relationship, Jules," he teases, smiling as Julian huffs. "I'm twenty-nine. How old are _you_?"

"Thirty-five," Julian responds.

Kamui chokes on inhale, trying his best to suppress the sound. "Thirty—You're six years older than I am? Julian Devorak, a cradle robber?"

"It's not really cradle robbing, at your age," Julian laughs. "And six years is hardly the biggest age gap I've ever had."

"Okay—clarify that statement, please."

"Asra is eight years younger," Julian clarifies. _He is?_ Kamui thinks. He hadn't known the magician's age before, for whatever reason. Had assumed it was the same, or more than his own age. Not two years younger.

Julian pulls back enough to make eye contact. Black powder was smeared around his eyes and parts of his cheeks, but it could be a lot worse. Despite the mess, his smile shone through, just as cocky and dramatic as always. "You could say I'm old enough to be your d—"

"I will actually kill you if you finish that sentence."

That has Julian descending into laughter, so smug, so absolutely _delighted_ with Kamui's disgust at his joke. It has him rolling his eyes, even though he's smiling too.

"Alright, come on. Let's get off the floor," he says. Raising up to his feet, he holds out a hand to help Julian up after him. They settle back in at the table. With no hesitation, Kamui sits up on his knees, gesturing for Julian to lean forward. It takes only a moment for him to understand, smiling softly as he inclines his head for Kamui to reach.

"You can really just do this magically, huh?" Julian asks.

"I know, why buy makeup, right?"

Julian laughs. "Honestly, I've been wearing the same coat of paint for weeks. Bit hard to get to the Red District when you're wanted for murder."

"And high treason," Kamui helpfully adds. "Probably arson, too, now that I think about it."

"Yes, my list runs quite long," Julian chuckles. "I don't suppose you can do anything other than just clean my face with that? Could you do my lipstick, too?"

He sounds so genuinely interested that it takes Kamui by surprise. The last time they had an actual conversation about magic, Julian had seemed nothing short of completely uncomfortable. "I could do that," Kamui says, raising a brow up at Julian. "I could paint your lips black, if you're feeling particularly melodramatic. Or red, if you're feeling saucy. Or rainbow, if you'd like Asra's attention."

"Oh, is that all it takes? I'll keep that in mind."

In the end, he just grooms Julian back into his usual self, fetching his eyepatch off the floor before he accidentally spooks Portia with his eye. Good thing, too, as she comes walking in barely five minutes afterwards.

Pepi rushes to greet her at the door, twirling between her legs. One of Portia's hands is pressed over her eyes, the other shutting the door behind her. "Are you guys behaving? Got all your clothes on?"

Kamui over-dramatically gasps. "Oh no, Julian, put your pants back on!" An exaggerated noise of disgust comes out of Portia's mouth at that, and she reaches blindly behind her for the door handle before registering the sound of laughter. She lets her hand fall away, seeing the two men seated at the table, almost exactly as they had been when she left.

"I was _this_ close to being an only child," Portia grumbles.

She stalks inside the room, pulling a bag off her shoulder which she deposits in the center of the dining table. Curious, Kamui and Julian lean forward, watching her lift up the flaps. A clean servant's uniform is drawn out and promptly shoved into Julian's arms, as she goes over the plan she's devised for them.

"I told everyone I was bringing in a new temp to be Kamui's assistant for the day," she explains. "That's you, Ian."

Julian looks absolutely disgusted. " _'Ian'_? Pasha, that's even worse than 'Jules'."

Kamui gasps, "You don't like 'Jules'? Julian, I've been calling you that all week!"

A curious look is aimed at him from Portia's direction. He blushes under the dual attention, holding the uniform close to his chest and staring down at the yellow fabric. "It, uh. Sounds nice when you say it," he admits, sounding small.

"Ohhhh, my godddd," Portia coos, a goofy smile on her face which she covers behind her hand. Julian shoots her a look, but he's too embarrassed for the heat in his glare to really translate properly.

Turning back around, he comes face-to-face with the sight of Kamui's devious grin. "Jules," the magician purrs, dragging out the syllables in a particularly alluring way. " _Juuuules_."

Julian stands from the table, thoroughly red in the face. "I'm turning myself in," he declares, "I can never recover from this public humiliation you've put me through, farewell." The other two descend into laughter at his dramatics, as he steps behind a divider on the other end of the room, draping the uniform over the top.

Once their laughter subsides, Portia reaches back inside her bag. "I also brought some wigs," she says, pulling the bag into her lap so she can lay them out on the table. "You just need to make sure they cover up your eye."

"Shouldn't be a problem, I don't think," Julian says, his waistcoat appearing over the top of the divider.

The sound of squawking outside draws Portia and Kamui's attention. In an instant, Pepi is up by the window to stick her head behind the curtain. "Ugh, it's that horrible bird again," Portia groans. She jumps to her feet, grabbing a nearby shovel. "I'll be right back, you guys. Behave yourselves." Shovel at the ready, she rushes out the door, the sound of her yelling at the bird getting farther and farther away.

Kamui looks from the door over to the divider. The uniform top was pulled down, Julian's silk shirt hanging neatly up over his waistcoat.

"So, ah, big day today, isn't it?" Julian starts, chattering away as he gets changed. With Portia gone, there's little reason to be so modest, so Kamui raises to his feet, crossing the room to stand on the other side of the divider. At the sight of him, Julian jolts, getting caught up in the fabric of his shirt. Kamui's lips curl into a grin. He leans to one side.

"Need some help?" he oh-so-innocently asks. Shamelessly his eyes trace the line of Julian's torso, nearly bare with the uniform top hanging off his arms. There hadn't really been a good chance to just stare at the man's body when they were intimate, too busy with other things to stop and smell the roses, so to speak. The man's torso was slimmer than Asra's, lacking the muscular abdomen the magician had, but with wider shoulders, little red hairs dusting his chest. His nipples were a pale, almost rosy pink.

"It's, ah. More complicated than it looks," Julian says. He's about to pull the top back off himself when Kamui steps in to do it for him. His fingers purposefully drag down the bare skin of his arms in the process, pace deliberate. After getting a good look at Julian's resulting blush, he turns to study the uniform top. It was admittedly more complicated than he expected, despite having seen plenty of other servants wear it at this point.

"Hmm. I think..." Kamui muses, turning the uniform this way and that before getting the cloth into some semblance of order. "Oh, I get it. Hold out your arms, Jules."

"Yes, of course, you are the fashion expert," Julian teases. He holds out his arms, and Kamui arranges the undershirt around his torso, not being the slightest bit shy about touching him in the process. There's an amused, roguish grin on Julian's face as he watches Kamui work. "Enjoying yourself, are you?"

Kamui just smiles, grabbing onto Julian's sash and pulling the ties free, hanging the whole thing up over the divider. He'd need to fold all of this and hide it later, lest anyone notice it.

After getting Julian's undershirt properly settled, he reaches for the ties on Julian's pants, kneeling down onto the floor to start pulling them down. Right away the cocky smile on Julian's face vanishes, a flustered look taking its place. He makes a startled noise, reaching for Kamui's hand to try and stop him a little too late; the pants were already halfway down his thighs, his boots having been discarded awhile ago.

Bemused, Kamui tilts his head to get a look at Julian's face, and comes face-to-face with the man's completely unclothed, _mostly_ flaccid dick. He glances down, confirming that he hadn't pulled down more than just his pants. He raises a brow up at Julian.

"I certainly remember you wearing more clothes than this," Kamui says. Julian sputters, trying and failing to give a proper explanation or excuse, to which Kamui just looks even more incredulous. "Here I was thinking you just forgot them, but now I'm suspicious. What happened to them, Julian? What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Julian blurts out, blushing all the way to his ears and looking anywhere but directly down, at where Kamui's head is barely a foot away from his dick. "I—I didn't do anything. Nothing happened, they're just, uh. In the wash?"

Kamui hums, wholly unconvinced. "I don't think that's true," he says lowly, placing his hands on either of Julian's bare thighs and leaning in, smirking when his hips jerk back. He doesn't stop him, though, as he leans in fully, pressing his nose into the crook of where Julian's dick meets his pelvis, inhaling deeply. It causes him to twitch, thighs parting on automatic to give Kamui more room.

Devious, he turns his head, mouthing down the line of Julian's dick, never actually making direct contact, just letting his breath ghost over his flesh. It seems to do _something_ for Julian, as he lets out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

Pulling back, Kamui notices the way Julian's soft dick was getting progressively less so. He was just so incredibly reactive and easy to rile up. But if they wanted to live through this afternoon, he'd have to put a stop to this before Portia came back, or she'd gore him with her shovel for sure.

He can't resist kissing the inside of Julian's thigh before tugging his pants the rest of the way off, getting to his feet to toss them up over the divider. Grabbing the uniform pants, he says, "You might want to calm down, Jules. You're only borrowing these pants, you know."

He turns to see Julian giving him a heated look, as if he was expecting something else besides Kamui tossing him the uniform pants. "We're in your sister's cottage, you know. She's right outside."

"Oh, how I wish we were _anywhere_ but here," Julian says, eyes freely roaming the line of Kamui's body, to which the magician raises a brow, a grin on his lips to match the one Julian is giving him. Absolutely devilish and up to no good. But he gets dressed anyway, allowing Kamui to help him into the rest of the uniform, cravat and all. When Kamui goes to pull his hands away from the cravat, Julian dives in, attempting to nip at his fingers.

"Devious!" Kamui laughs. "My, but what _would_ your grandmother say if she saw you acting like this?"

"Oh, she'd bludgeon me to death with her spoon," Julian says, with a certain impassiveness to his tone. He slips on the white gloves, smoothing them down over his uniform, adjusting the different articles of clothing for comfort. Kamui stands a certain distance away, appraising. "So? How do I look? Just as ridiculously handsome as before?"

Kamui chuckles. Even if it _was_ just a joke, it felt better to hear Julian brag than put himself down. "Mmm, I like you better in black... but I still _would_ ," Kamui purrs. His eyes rake over Julian's form, appreciating the slim cut of his waist and hips.

The toothy grin Julian gives him at that is not to be trusted. "Oh? Would _what_ , pray tell...?"

Kamui opens his mouth to respond when the door to the cottage opens, admitting Portia with her shovel. "I'm back!" she announces. "Am I interrupting something? Please don't tell me if I was."

"Just discussing politics, would you care to weigh in?" Julian jokes.

She levels a flat look at the divider. "No."

Laughing, Kamui steps fully out from behind the divider, gathering up Julian's clothes on the way without really thinking about it. The man in question follows him out, presenting himself to Portia with a bit of a flourish. "Well? What do you think?"

Portia's snort says everything. "Ridiculous," she says.

"Great! I've always wanted to look like a clown," Julian cheers.

The two tease each other back and forth while Kamui makes quick work of folding Julian's clothes, overly used to the act considering Asra was conveniently never home to do laundry himself. Once that's done, Portia seems to notice, and points out the wardrobe nearby for him to tuck everything away into, boots included. Though he takes the time to make sure they're clean, not wanting to muck up her furniture.

"Wow, you're very neat, huh," Portia comments. It feels a bit like a compliment with the way she says it, so Kamui smiles. Following her appraisal, they move on to the wigs. "Which one do you want, blonde, brown, or black?"

"I don't really mind any of them," Julian says, to which Kamui then blurts out, "Black!" This gets the siblings' attention, surprised by his steadfast opinion on the wigs. With a grin and a shrug Julian lifts the black wig, getting it settled on one of his hands before brushing his bangs aside. He drops the eyepatch onto the table, eye closed against the light coming in through the curtains, before situating the wig onto his head with only a little bit of help from Portia. Kamui hovers nearby, longing to fuss over him in the same manner.

After getting it properly settled and finger-combed into some semblance of order, Julian smiles, doing his best to stand as a servant would, just a little too far on the side of dramatic posing. "Well, how do I look?"

Kamui stares, taking in the way the wig frames Julian's face, so different than his usual curls. He prefers the curls, although he's probably really biased in that way, considering. It still doesn't look _too_ bad, although Portia clearly doesn't agree, as she bursts into mocking laughter.

"Oh my god," she manages between bouts of snickering. "You look like a—You look like a—"

"Yes yes, laugh it up," Julian says, with a playful roll of his eyes. She does exactly that, until managing to reign herself in.

With the disguise in place, the trio heads for the palace proper. There's a notable amount of tension in Julian's posture, not unlike the last time he snuck in, but after seeing how everyone around him doesn't so much as spare him a passing glance, he relaxes. The two men exchange smiles before focusing on the task at hand.

Portia explains to them how she has all the portals and other weird locations in the palace mapped out and memorized, leading them to a particularly interesting spot. "If there was going to be some weird, scary dungeon hidden in the palace somewhere, it would be in here, for sure," she says.

While she fumbles with the locks—and, really, you'd expect a palace to have their locks in order, wouldn't you?—Julian leans against a nearby wall. The doctor-turned-assistant is about to open his mouth when the wall behind him shifts, spinning in a half circle and taking Julian with it.

Stunned, Portia and Kamui stare at where Julian used to be. "That wasn't on my map," she croaks, sounding small.

Thus begins their panicked runabout of the palace, hurrying to locate Julian before he can get himself into trouble. "I had a feeling this would happen, I just didn't think it'd be _immediate_!" Portia gripes.

"He's slippery," Kamui comments. He lets his shawl fall to his shoulders, growing a bit too warm with all the movement. Portia scoffs, shaking her head.

"I'll show him _slippery_ ," she grumbles. Kamui has no idea what the threat means, but he doesn't really want to find out, either.

Turning a corner, the muffled, yet close by sound of Julian's voice reaches their ears. They turn to each other with matching looks of surprise before rushing to find the exact room he's in. Following the voice leads them to one of the many parlors, where they poke their heads in to find Julian sitting with a group of three women Kamui's never seen before. Something about them is vaguely familiar, but he can't really place it, so he shrugs off that thought.

However, in-between the two women actually seated, is none other than Asra, with his legs crossed and a cup of tea in his hands. He's listening to Julian tell an exaggerated tale to the group, a playful smirk on his face that suggests he doesn't buy any of it, but is playing along anyway. The woman to his right, who has an orange braid over her shoulder, is leaning pretty heavily into his personal space, but he doesn't appear to mind, even with her hands on his leg. It seems like she thinks leaning will make it easier to hear Julian's story, or maybe she's just excitable and affectionate. Kamui could relate.

"And that's when I saw them—two, no, _three_ men—"

"Oh, my!" The woman to the left of Asra gasps.

Smirking, Asra asks, "So what did you do?" In response, Julian flashes him a winning grin, gesturing theatrically as he continues his story, enthralling the two women and possibly also Asra, although he looks more amused than amazed.

"Then I beat them back with my sparkling wit and dazzling feats of pugilism!" Julian declares, posing heroically with a shoe propped up on one of the chairs. Definitely not sanitary or professional, but the two women seem delighted, the green-haired one to Asra's left giggling behind her hand at the display. "And, yelping and howling, they dropped their stolen salts and staggered away!"

"Mmm, with three men? My, how dashing and noble you are, _Ian_ ," Asra says, teasing with a bit of a flirtatious lilt. The smile on his face is both mischievous and coquettish, lips parted at the center, eyes narrowed.

Kamui can't believe what he's witnessing. Can hardly believe it when Julian responds in kind—keeping with the theatricality of his performance, but very clearly trying to impress Asra, even if it _is_ all probably pretty farcical.

"Are they... flirting?" Portia whispers, glancing upwards to where Kamui hovers over the top of her.

"Finally!" Kamui stage whispers. The way Julian carries about his tale, always looking at Asra, checking his reaction, the way Asra laughs softly and smiles up at him; god, but they were in love, weren't they? It wasn't like he was the only one who saw it—Portia noticed it, too.

"Are you trying to get them to hook up?" Portia whispers back.

"Yes! They would be so cute together, don't you think?"

The resulting smile on Portia's face is absolutely devious. "Ohhh, matchmaking. I love it. I'm in."

They exchange the world's quietest high five in solidarity, which as a result turns into something vaguely resembling a handshake before they part. Neither seem particularly bothered by that, though, feeling nearly perfectly in-sync as they continue spying on the duo in question.

Although, they don't get very far, as the one woman stood apart from all the rest addresses them. The way she looks at them suggests she'd been looking likely the entire time they'd been there. "What are you doing?" she asks, her voice strong yet quiet. It's enough to draw the attention of the rest of the room.

After registering their added presence, Julian awkwardly clears his throat, hastily moving to stand in a more prim manner befitting of a servant. Asra laughs softly at the sight, temporarily throwing Julian off. While the two newcomers awkwardly straighten out their posture and step inside, Julian introduces them to the room. The spiel was more flowery than Kamui was used to hearing, not that he'd been introduced to a room very many times.

"Kamui! I was looking for you," Asra says, sitting forward to set his cup down on the coffee table. "Come sit with us. Ian tells such interesting stories."

"They _are_ rather entertaining," the woman to Asra's left, Nasmira, agrees.

Kamui glances around, weighing the appropriateness of sitting directly in Asra's lap—which he knows full well, if the way he's leaning back, smirking up at Kamui as if _daring_ him to follow through is any indication. In the end he decides to settle into an armchair nearby Julian, resisting the urge to curl up with his shoes on the chair. It was one thing when they were at the shop, barefoot, without any princesses around.

"I've love to hear one of your many tales, _Ian_ ," Kamui prompts. He gestures for Julian to speak, moving his hand in an elegant way, like something he'd seen Nadia do, just a little bit exaggerated. He leans on his elbow, legs crossed at the knee, like a king in his throne. Something about it must appeal greatly to Julian, as the man stutters mid-sentence after noticing it.

"Ian told us how you came to the palace, Kamui," the woman to Asra's right, Navra, says. "What a riveting story it was!"

"I hope you find that murderer soon," Nasmira says, brows creased. "It must weigh so heavily on Didi's mind..."

 _Didi_? Did they mean Nadia? Of all the nicknames...

"Oh, but Ian, please do tell us another story," Nasmira continues. "It's very kind of you to entertain us while we wait for Didi."

Julian grins, eager to do so, but he doesn't manage to get anywhere before Portia speaks up. "Oh, I just hate to interrupt, but I'm afraid Ian, Kamui, and I actually have to go," she says. Turning in the direction of the two men, her bangs fall into her eyes, hiding the severe look she sends Julian's way.

Silver eyes flicker over to Asra, who raises a brow at him. "But I—I mean, yes, that's right," he says, shrinking a bit. He clears his throat. "There's an investigation to conduct, a murderer to catch."

After the princesses all say their polite goodbyes, Asra quickly finishes off his tea, rising from his seat. "I'll go with you," he says. Right away Navra and Nasmira express their disappointment, having apparently charmed his way into their good graces just as fast as 'Ian' had. After managing to step away from them, the group of four exits into the hallway, with Portia closing the door behind them.

She rounds on Julian immediately. "Ilyushka, what were you thinking? You could've been caught!" she loudly whispers, careful not to be heard by any of the princesses right in the other room. Julian bristles, about to try and make an excuse when a melodic voice drifts down the hallway.

"That's Nadia," Asra says, hushed.

"What do we do?" Julian asks, casting nervous glances between each member of the group.

Both magicians were pondering the quickest spell they could cast when Portia says, "You need to hide, _now_ , Ilya. I can distract her for a couple seconds, but after that..."

Kamui looks over to Asra to see him looking directly at a wall nearby, with too much focus to be zoning out. "Over here," he says, leading the two men over to the space beneath a stone arch. The stone shimmers beneath the palms of his hand, like rippling water.

"Oh, that's, um," Julian stammers, staring at the magician's hands with a stunned expression. There's no time for him to say anything else before Asra's hand is around his wrist, tugging him through the portal. Kamui follows close behind.

They step out into a darkened hallway, vertigo causing Kamui to trip and nearly fall, catching himself at the last second. Looking up, he finds Asra perfectly steady, while Julian nearly slams into a nearby wall, perhaps twice as dizzy from the spell as Kamui had been. His wig is nowhere to be found.

"Well that was _fun_ ," Julian gripes, pushing himself off the wall and onto his feet proper. He reaches up to adjust his wig, frowning when he doesn't find it there. With a sigh he glances around the area, his expression quickly morphing into a disturbed grimace. "Uh, where are we?"

"This is the Count's old wing," Kamui says, wrapping his arms around himself. It was as he remembered it, vandalized paintings and all. Yet somehow it was even worse; like the memory of his last visit still lingered, ash clinging to him with the humidity of the air around them. It made his skin crawl. Absently, he swipes at the bared parts of his body. Once Asra comes back to attention, he notices, taking both of Kamui's hands in his.

"Do you feel something?" he asks.

" _Yes_ ," Kamui hisses. "It's everywhere."

Asra's eyes widen, "Everywhere?" The surprise in his tone tells Kamui this feeling must not be mutual. He couldn't see how—he wasn't even trying, and he could sense it. What it meant, he wasn't sure, although he had a few theories.

"Um," Julian starts, drawing their attention back to him. "What is that?"

They follow his eyes to the other end of the hallway, where a pair of glowing red eyes are watching them. The sight sends a chill down Kamui's spine, and his hands tighten around Asra's, as Julian sidles closer to them, putting himself between them and the creature. The owner of those eyes creeps closer, revealing itself to be the Count's dogs, Mercedes and Melchior. Everyone but Kamui relaxes at the sight. For a moment, Julian even appears excited, although it quickly sours.

"I remember these dogs, they were the Count's," Julian says. "They used to bite me to get my attention."

"Are you sure that wasn't Lucio?" Asra jokes, lips quirked into a teasing smile. The attempt at humor seems to go over well, although the presence of the dogs, coming even closer sort of invalidates it. The hounds have Kamui wound up tight enough to potentially fling himself to the other end of the hallway. The dogs stop maybe a foot away from Julian. They whine, moving their heads in unison to nudge at him, getting his attention.

"I think they want us to follow," Julian muses.

"Oh, great," Kamui says, a little too loudly thanks to his nerves. "The dogs that bite people want us to follow them into the haunted bed chambers, I love it."

Julian gives him a look. There's curiosity and concern in his expression, and for a split second Kamui thinks to try and reassure him. But his concern isn't misplaced; to convince Julian that he was okay would be a lie.

"Kamui," Asra says, putting a lot of stress onto those three syllables. "It's alright. Just stay behind us and they won't bother you."

"If you say so," Kamui says slowly, moving closer toward Asra's back.

They creep along the hallway, following the dogs, who lead them eagerly to Lucio's bed chambers, just as Kamui predicted. Asra opens the door for them with a wave of his hand, and the dogs rush inside before anyone else can get a chance to.

The room is cast in shadow, and Asra goes to raise his hand to turn on the lights, but Kamui moves quicker, reluctant to let the dogs out of his sight. The lights flare a bit too brightly before settling into a gentle glow. The sudden burst of light causes Asra to startle, whipping around to face Kamui, who still has his hand raised. Brows furrowed, Asra exhales slowly, turning back around.

The room is just as Kamui remembers, although the mess they'd left behind has been cleared. There's a lingering presence that he tries his best to ignore, lest it somehow summon him. One of the dogs flops down on the bed, while the other heads right over to the gaudy full-length portrait, shoving her nose against it like she wanted to topple it.

Completely unaware to the threat lurking in the shadows, Julian wanders curiously around the room. The dogs don't bother him in the slightest, and they don't seem to care about him at all in return. They bother Kamui very, very much, however, so he remains at Asra's side while the magician observes the dog by the painting, puzzled.

"You know, it's funny," Julian starts, drawing Kamui's attention over to him. "I thought this would feel like a bigger deal than it is. But now that I'm actually here, knowing the truth, I can see it for what it is." He sneers. "Just a... dusty old room."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Asra says. Julian turns to give him a wide-eyed look, but he's still focused on the painting, squinting at it like there was something more to it. Something he wasn't remembering.

"That's a joke, right? More 'I talk to chickens' nonsense?" Julian asks. Neither magician responds immediately, with Kamui staring at the ground with a bit of a grimace. "It isn't, is it?"

"This isn't the right place to talk about it," Kamui says quietly. A chill runs down his spine, goosebumps rising on his arms. Like something had passed by him without his notice, an overly warm breeze where there shouldn't be one.

The warmth wrapped around his hand vanishes, and he turns to see Asra step closer to the painting, leaning to investigate where the dog kept shoving her nose. It doesn't budge despite all that, which Kamui finds a little... odd. He considers casting out with his magic, check if maybe there was something behind it, but he refrains, remembering the last time he'd been here, how it felt like his magic had been snuffed out like a candle. It hadn't happened yet, but now that he was aware of the possibility again, he didn't want to try.

"What is it?" Julian asks, stepping over to the painting.

"I don't know," Asra responds. "Something about this feels off."

"You mean, other than..." Julian gestures towards the dog, now pawing desperately at the space between the wall and the painting. Kamui carefully sidesteps around her to stand by Julian.

It occurs to him, suddenly, like a light going off in his head. "Wait," he says, drawing the other's attention. "Check the sides of the frame."

Asra does just that, while Julian uses his height advantage to search the top of the frame. Eventually there's a click, Asra's eyes going wide as the trio steps away from the frame. The painting swivels outwards just enough for a single person to squeeze through, revealing a dark hallway descending downwards on a marble staircase. The scent of fresh food carries up into the room, blending together into something mouthwateringly tempting. It has Kamui wondering—just how long had it been since he'd last eaten...?

The dogs bound over to the opening in the portrait, causing Kamui to jump back nearly hard enough to trip both himself and Asra, but the hounds stop just short. Their interested panting turns to snarls, and just as quickly they flee the room, their claws clacking across the tile. Relieved to finally be dog-free, Kamui lets out a held breath, sagging back against Asra's chest. Like more of a reflex than a conscious move, Asra's arms wrap around his midsection, settling comfortably.

"I think I know what this is," Asra says.

"Care to enlighten us?" Julian asks.

"Lucio's private dining area. He conducted a ritual here, three years ago. A plan to get himself a new body, one free of the plague, but it backfired."

"A _ritual_?" Julian asks, incredulous. "I don't remember anything like that."

"Wait," Kamui starts, interrupting Asra, who had his lips parted to speak. "When you say it backfired, do you mean that it killed him?" His comment has Julian's eyebrows raising.

"Lucio didn't die," Asra says. "His body was destroyed, and he became trapped between worlds." He frowns. "This isn't the right place to talk."

"Yes, let's all just go to a tavern instead, much better atmosphere there," Julian sarcastically quips.

"It isn't the atmosphere that's the problem," Kamui says, glancing back at the room behind them. "Someone might be listening."

Julian pales. "Is that a possibility?"

"A very real one," Asra vaguely responds. The response visibly unsettles Julian, likely assuming someone in the palace could have overheard him and would be calling for the guards at any moment. Stepping out of Asra's loose embrace, Kamui places a hand on the doctor's bicep, easing back a little when the contact causes him to jolt, paranoia in his smokey eyes.

"Let's head down," Kamui says. He expects some form of complaint or protesting, but instead Julian just sighs, steeling his expression and nodding.

"We should try not to eat or drink anything we find down there. And..." Asra trails off, turning to Kamui. There's a smile on his face that doesn't quite meet his weary eyes. "A little magical protection couldn't hurt."

"Please," Kamui says, remaining still while Asra places his hands on Kamui's shoulders. Eyes drifting shut, he sighs softly as a warm trickling of magic washes over him, gentle and serene. He blinks open to the lingering trace of Asra's glittering lilac aura, gone in the next second.

Kamui sees Julian watching them with a perplexed look. Something about it is both amusing and charming, and he can't help the smile that forms at the sight. It only grows as Asra leans in, pressing a kiss to his forehead, thumb brushing his cheek.

"Is that part of the spell, too?" Kamui quietly asks, peering through ivory lashes.

Asra chuckles. "Does it make you feel safe?"

"You do," Kamui says earnestly. The sight of the blush that spreads over Asra's cheeks at that warms his heart. With a smile that was probably bordering on a bit silly he leans in to return the gesture, raising slightly up on his feet to reach properly.

Once they part, Julian raises a brow at Asra, asking, "Did that do something? You just touched him."

"Were you expecting fireworks?" Asra jokes, giving Julian a teasing grin. "Come here, Ilya."

Brows furrowed with confusion and perhaps a slight touch of frustration, Julian takes a step closer. Once he's in range, Asra reaches for him, placing his hands on either of Julian's shoulders. His aura shimmers, covering Julian like a sheer, silk sheet. In response, the man shivers, glancing overhead like he expected to find something there, doing a double take when there wasn't anything to be seen.

"What is that? What did you do?"

Asra pulls his hands back. "Just a protection spell," he says.

"That's... not what I would have expected a protection spell to feel like."

"Right," Kamui starts, voice dripping with sarcasm, "You'd expect it to hurt, when Asra draws your blood and uses it as an offering to his dark lord."

"Ha," Julian dryly responds.

Kamui's hand finds Asra's, following behind him as they squeeze in past the portrait. As they pass by Julian, Asra says, quiet enough to be a whisper, but loud enough to be heard, "We can't tell him about our dark lord, Kamui."

Julian sputters. "Wait, what?"

With a light held up in Asra's free hand, they step inside. They all stick close by one another, although the tight spacing of the hallway makes it hard to walk side-by-side. The grip on Kamui's right hand is much tighter than his left, betraying Julian's anxiety over the whole situation. However, it doesn't take long before they reach the other end; a grand dining hall, already lit up with candles. A glorious banquet is spread out on the table, the scent of cooked meats and moist, warm desserts nearly overwhelming.

"This is where it happened," Asra says. With Kamui in hand, he walks farther in, eyes roaming across the feast laid before them. "I remember it very clearly, but I don't remember how it failed."

"You were involved in this?" Kamui asks. With the magician turned at an angle, facing the table, Kamui can see the bare skin of his chest quite clearly. His eyes fixate on the spot over Asra's heart, putting two and two together. "But, why?"

Julian scoffs from behind Kamui. "Why does anyone do anything for Count Lucio?"

"It wasn't for him," Asra says, his voice strangely hushed and far-off. His gaze is fixated on the food in the center of the table, as he starts to hover around the chair second from the edge.

"Then who was it for?" Julian asks, receiving no form of response. Bemused, he turns away from the banquet and over to Asra. The feast is drawing his gaze, practically unblinking, eyes unfocused.

"Asra?" Kamui tries, leaning forward to peer up at his expression. There's still no response, his gaze distracted. Glazed over, like when he was zoning out, daydreaming. Frowning, Kamui lightly nudges him, startling when Asra responds by pulling out the chair in front of him, taking his hand back from Kamui. "What are you doing? Asra?"

To his distress, the words fall on deaf ears. He watches as Asra lifts up a fork from the place setting in front of him, using it to scoop up a piece of food from the table seemingly at random. The second the silverware touches the meat, it warps, the scent of decay hitting Kamui nearly hard enough to have him gagging.

Completely unaware, Asra brings the graying, bug-infested meat up to his mouth. It hardly grazes his lips before Kamui slaps it out of his hand, sending it flying across the table and into the single, throne-like chair at the end.

A gasp tears free from Asra's throat before he jumps back up, tripping over the chair behind him in his haste to get away. Kamui throws out his arms, catching him around the middle and halting his descent. The way the backs of his legs hit the toppled chair is surely going to bruise, but the way his hands dig into Kamui's arms will bruise a lot harder. Never in his life has he seen Asra so shaken by something, lowering his head down to Kamui's chest and taking a deep, steadying breath.

"It's alright," Kamui reassures, trying his best to imitate the tone Asra always used on him. "I'm here, don't worry."

Nodding mutely, Asra picks his head back up, expression twisted with anxiety. Kamui leans forward to kiss the line of his brows, urging them to relax.

"What just happened?" Julian asks. Kamui peers over his shoulder at the man, who stares down at Asra in concern, tinged with a bit of shock at what he'd just witnessed.

"I don't know," Asra says, voice wavering before he can get it in check with a slow, steadying breath. "I've never felt a magic compulsion that strong." He looks almost ashamed of himself as his eyes fall on the table, sliding over to the chair tipped over behind him.

Kamui glances out over the table. Each place setting was meticulously arranged with a different meal and drink at each chair. A steaming cup of lapsang souchong rests beside a plate of charbroiled skink at the seat where Asra once was, a combination Kamui was intimately familiar with. There were more chairs than seemed necessary; sure, Lucio was royalty, but did he really have this many friends? Or was this a vanity project?

Although, wait. A ritual was conducted here. The magic still lingered, preserving the illusion of fresh food and drink, the candles eternally lit. Suspicious, his eyes follow along the line of chairs, counting them in his head. Hitting twenty-two doesn't surprise him so much as it unnerves him.

He steps away from Asra, reaching between the folds of his shirt. Like a lucid dream he pulls out the tarot deck, staring at it for a moment before undoing the clasp. Out of the corner of his eye he notices Asra watching him closely, curiously. He draws The Magician, hearing nothing. With a thoughtful hum he places the card on the table where Asra had taken a seat.

"...Kamui? What are you doing?" he asks, bemused.

At the next place setting, he's both surprised and not to see The High Priestess. It's placed in front of the plate of swordfish, before he moves on to the next place setting. Letting the cards choose themselves, he eventually ends up looping all the way around to the plate opposite where The Magician had landed, staring down at the vacant, gray cliffside of The Fool.

"A guest for every card," Kamui starts. His gaze remains fixed on the table. "Why did he need that many? I don't understand."

"I'm not sure," Asra says. He looks out over the table, taking in the meals served up beneath each card, virtually untouched. "But everything was set up perfectly. I don't see how the ritual could have failed," he says.

"Maybe not everyone showed up," Julian says. Kamui follows the doctor's gaze over to The Hanged Man, where a meal of black coffee and lobster claws was set up. If that was meant to imply what he thought it was, then he had a point. He was locked in the dungeons, although whether that happened before or after the ritual...

"Would that have been enough?" Asra muses, eyes wide as he turns to look at Julian. He returns the look with one of his own, surprised to have Asra acknowledge him in such a way, especially to tell him he might be _right_ about something. Asra's brows crease. "But how would we know if that's what really happened?"

"We investigate," Kamui matter-of-factly says.

He lifts the overly pretentious-looking meal below The Fool in one hand. There was nothing underneath it but tablecloth, although Asra's hand at his wrist stops him from putting the plate back where he'd found it. He gently lifts Kamui's hand back up, peering at the underside of the plate. The other two follow his gaze, spotting a symbol drawn into the gold. It's easily recognizable, although slightly off from the two that Kamui had seen thus far, just as unique from them as they were from each other. He raises his head to find Julian's fingers lightly grazing his own neck, eyes wide with surprise.

After setting the plate back down, Kamui asks, "Asra, what do these symbols mean? Why are they here?"

Discomfort twists Asra's expression, a hand held loosely over his chest. "It's... a signature, of sorts. The magical sign of a bargain struck."

The silence that ensues after that is palpable. Several thoughts flow through Kamui's head at a sluggish pace. Memories of a darkened alleyway, blood warming his body, of Julian telling him a witch had cursed him. Of sweat soaked bodies, a light piercing the dark, his hand over Asra's soft flesh asking _What does it do_ , like it was just a silly magic trick, completely missing the gravity of the situation. The look of discomfort on his lover's face as he wordlessly declined to answer.

A bargain struck. One of the first things he'd ever learned about magic was to be careful what you wish for. In Kamui's experience, or, rather, in the shared experiences of others told in books or through word of mouth, wishes hardly ever turned out the way you wanted them to. No one ever offered you riches without some ulterior motive.

Asra knew that, understood that, practiced and taught that. For him to have completely gone against that...

The plague was a rough time for everyone. He could only imagine what it must have been like, to have driven Asra to commit such an act.

Julian's harsh tone cuts through the silence. "Are you trying to tell me I _asked_ for this?" He scowls, gesturing towards his neck. "This—This _curse_? I never agreed to any magic rituals."

"Maybe not," Asra says gently, patiently. The ease at which he responds, voice so incredibly level, has Julian simmering down a bit. "Every deal comes at a cost."

Eyes wide, the tension starts to deflate out of him as Asra's words sink in. "And this is the cost? Then what was the reward?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Kamui muses. He turns back to the table. "Which seat was Lucio's?"

Asra gestures with a slight glare to the seat to the right of The Magician. Doing a double take at the overly fancy meal, Kamui can't help the mocking snicker that comes out of him.

"Of course. Of course," Kamui scoffs. There were so many things he wanted to say about that that he has too much trouble deciding on just one. In the end, he settles on a huffing laugh, turning away from the table, eyes landing on the entrance to the dining room. He goes to say something else when he suddenly feels something, a faint tug at his chest that flickers awareness all throughout his body. Like waking too suddenly, everything felt a little too crisp, his limbs urging him to move, to do something, yet he hadn't the faintest clue what.

Without thinking, he turns back towards the table, eyes landing on The Fool card. There's the faint sound of Asra's voice in his ears, but it hardly registers; only about as much as an insect buzzing past his ear would, easily dismissed and forgotten about. There's no sense that he _should_ be paying attention, either. No thoughts about what it could have been. Just the indescribable urge to move, his limbs utterly restless with it.

Curious, he gives over control to his body. Maybe it would lead him somewhere interesting, or maybe not. It hardly mattered, not when he had multiple people there to pull him out of a bad situation. Although, the threat of danger didn't even register, not a shred of caution in him as his legs carry him to Lucio's chair, pulling it out and taking a seat.

Casually, he goes to cross his leg, raising his head up to an entirely different sight than before. The room was darker, candlelight cutting through the inky blackness to little success. The room was lightly swaying, as though on the inside of a ship, yet nothing in the environment moves with it. Just his vision, tilting, side-to-side, back and forth. In the distance, a cacophony of sounds echo down the hallway, practically vibrating off the walls; voices, footsteps, clinking glasses.

He turns, seeing the feast for what it really was; nothing but decay, devastated by mold and hungry bugs wriggling through the mess. To his left, the chair is occupied by a familiar, foxlike figure. Beyond them sits a similar figure with the visage of an owl, and beyond them, an empty chair. Following along the line of chairs with his eyes, he spots several other figures scattered about throughout the empty chairs. A bear covered in a thick cloak, a dove, a ram...

It all warps seconds after his eyes land on the last figure, twisting and burning, crackling, until it's all gone, over in an instant. Blinking, he's surprised not only by how easy it is to readjust to the light, but by the feel of carpet beneath him. Vision clearing, he finds Asra hovering over the top of him with concern in his eyes.

Before he can say anything, Kamui pushes himself up on his elbows, causing Asra to sit back, giving his apprentice some space. Taking a deep breath and looking around the room to reorient himself, he finds Julian hovering not far off, panic in his silver irises which slowly clear, giving way to confusion. Not breaking eye contact, Kamui says, "You were right."

Eyes flashing with surprise, Julian points at himself, seeking confirmation. "I... I was?" His faces scrunches up. "About what, exactly?"

"The ritual failed because only half the guests showed up," Kamui explains. At Asra's look of surprise and curiosity, he continues, "I saw something, when I sat down. The Magician, The High Priestess..." Pulling his legs closer to his body, he pauses, eyes raking over the table in front of him. "The Hierophant... The Hermit..." He continues, going over each of the Major Arcana he recalled seeing in his vision. "Everyone else wasn't there."

"But Lucio went ahead with the ritual anyway," Asra concludes, disdain shadowing his expression.

"Recklessness," Kamui mutters. Shrugging his shoulders, he pushes to his feet, helping Asra up after him.

"If failing the ritual destroyed Lucio's body, then finally following through with it will reverse the effects," Asra says. "We just have to find the guests, and make sure they don't show up for the ritual. At the… masquerade. Where everyone is… wearing… masks…" Realizing the flaw in his plan, he turns away with a bit of a grimace.

"I don't suppose you could just set the place on fire, instead?" Julian helpfully suggests. In response, Asra goes to open his mouth, likely to say _no_ , but Kamui has no such reservations, snapping his fingers with intent to produce a flame. The sound startles Asra into whipping his head around, although the spell does nothing but fizzle out, the oppressive air of the dining hall weighing down on Kamui's spellcasting ability.

"That's a no," Kamui says, audibly disappointed. Asra sighs deeply.

"Let's not burn anything down, no matter how much we want to."

"Right," Julian says, like he agrees, only to then tack on, "We can just destroy the tables and chairs instead."

Kamui is already halfway to lifting a chair over his head with intent to smash it when Asra holds out a hand, halting him. "That'll attract unwanted attention," Asra reasons. Kamui's hands fall limp to his sides with a disappointed groan.

"Then, we—"

The sound of something moving upstairs draws their attention back to the entryway. A loud, booming voice carries across the hall, striking fear into the trio. Kamui and Julian turn to look at each other instinctually, panic visible in both their rounded eyes.

"That's Pontifex Vulgora," Kamui harshly whispers, gritting his teeth as he looks desperately to Asra for answers. Of the three of them, he's the most composed, taking a deep breath and carefully placing his mask of neutrality back on his face. He offers up a small smile.

"I'll deal with them. Stay down here and don't make a sound."

Kamui reaches for his hand before he can walk away. "Be careful."

The artificial smile on Asra's face becomes more genuine, then, tender affection dancing in his eyes. "I will," he says. Kamui takes a step forward at nearly the same time Asra does, meeting in the middle for a brief, but firm kiss.

While they're still barely inches apart, Kamui whispers lowly, "If they hurt you, I'll kill them."

"They're a warlord," Asra whispers back.

"Won't matter when they're dead." With an amused huff, Asra sneaks in another kiss before pulling back, sparing Julian a glance before rushing up the stairs leading out of the room.

After the magician is gone, Kamui creeps closer to the entrance, pressing himself up against the wall nearby, just in case someone unexpected comes running downstairs. Julian seems to catch on, joining him against the wall. They listen in on the conversation occurring in the bedroom upstairs, catching Asra talking not just to Vulgora, but Volta as well. They're caught by surprise, allowing Asra to smoothly talk his way around Vulgora's suspicious questions. Eventually his words frustrate them enough that when Volta starts going on about the smell of food, they give in to her pleading without much prodding.

"What did you say their name was?" Julian asks, speaking in a hushed voice. At Kamui's response, his eyes narrow in thought. Then, suddenly, his face lights up, sparking with recognition. "I remember them. The Count's courtiers, there were five of them... Vulgora, Volta, Vlastomil, Valerius..."

He trails off, eyes narrowing, brows drawn together, before a similar look of recognition crosses his features. "And... _Valdemar_. I remember now, we worked together during the plague. They were a little... overly interested."

In the background, the sound of footsteps travels back down the staircase. Kamui recognizes the gentle clacking of Asra's heels against the marble, sparing the doorway a glance before returning to Julian, who's prodding at his chin with his hand, lost in thought.

Right as Asra rejoins them in the dining hall, Julian perks up, exclaiming, "I know where the dungeons are!" The sudden sound nearly causes Asra to trip backwards, as if the sound carried with it a physical force that could have bowled him over. Julian turns, silver eyes meeting violet.

In a rush, he grabs onto Kamui's hand, dragging him back upstairs, Asra close at their heel. With the room, and hallway leading up to it, now vacant, Julian doesn't hesitate to rush out of it, all the way out into the palace proper. Before he can get himself caught, Asra focuses his aura over Julian's head, shimmering lavender cascading down his frame like a waterfall, lightly glittering. Kamui instantly recognizes the nevermind-me spell, exhaling a sigh of relief.

The doctor doesn't stop running until he reaches the library, running into Portia along the way. The handmaiden looks to the trio, her eyes sliding off Julian and onto Kamui and Asra in turn, eyes round with panic.

"Where have you two been?! I couldn't find you anywhere, and I searched for _hours_ , I was worried sick!"

"Hours?" Kamui blurts out, stunned. It had only been maybe half an hour, tops, from his perspective. He looks to Asra for confirmation, seeing a matching look of bewilderment on the magician's face.

"No time," Julian says. His sister's pale eyes turn to him before her gaze slides away outside her control, focusing back on Kamui instead.

"What? No time for what?"

"Pasha. I need you to get us into the library," he says.

Portia looks incredibly confused as her rounded eyes swap between the two magicians, but still she nods, heading for the library door.

Immediately after getting inside the library, Julian drops his hold on Kamui’s hand, hurrying over to a specific bookshelf. Muttering under his breath about spines and colors, he eventually finds what he's looking for, tipping back several books without removing them. There's an audible _click_ as the shelf swings open. It's hardly even a surprise at this point, garnering very little reaction from Kamui as Julian pushes the shelf open farther.

Always several steps ahead, Julian leads the two down into the dark depths of what Kamui could only assume were the palace dungeons. While the doctor's pace and posture would suggest he's entirely unbothered by their surroundings, Asra is tense at Kamui's side. Glancing over the stone walls, the torches flickering along the walls, the spiderwebs across the ceiling. He looks completely out of place; the exact opposite of Julian, who fit in well with the dramatic lighting and dark atmosphere.

Eventually they reach the bottom, following along a winding corridor until an iron gate appears along the right wall. Without hesitation, Julian steps right up to it, leaving the other two several steps behind, much more cautious of the unfamiliar and ominous sight. Gloved fingers graze an inscription carved into a plaque on the gate, squinting down through the darkness.

"Bloody hands may turn the key. Know the weight of your sins, and enter." The further he goes along, the more his tone drops, along with the increasingly desolate look on his face.

Sparing a glance in Asra’s direction, Kamui steps up. Silent, he fishes the red key out of Julian’s pocket, ignoring the look the doctor gives him as he sticks the key inside the gate’s lock. It fits cleanly inside, but refuses to budge, no matter how hard he twists it. On the verge of injuring himself with his efforts, Julian lays a hand over his, halting him.

"I think it has to be me," he says. There’s a faraway, despondent look in his eye as he stares through the bars at the elevator waiting on the other side. Kamui’s lips press tightly together, swallowing through a lump in his throat. His hand shakes as he pulls away, Julian’s hand taking his place. The key turns without much effort, clicking as the lock comes undone.

For a moment, they both just stare. Then, Kamui says, "Julian, you can’t think that…"

"It’s alright, Kamui," Julian interrupts. His hands wrap around the iron bars, urging the gate to collapse against the left side. The lift on the other side was only large enough to feasibly fit one person, and Julian steps inside. The gate closes behind him automatically. Kamui curls his fingers around the bars, and Julian does the same, their hands overlapping.

"I want you to know something," Julian starts. "All the things we’ve talked about… the clinic, your beach house fantasy, all of that, I can’t stop thinking about it. More than anything, I want to make those things a reality. Not just for you, or…"

He glances, moving only his eyes, over to where Asra stands, several feet behind Kamui. Their eyes catch, and the magician’s posture straightens out. Lingering for a single, tense moment, before Julian looks away.

"I want a future with you," he professes. "I want to wake up next to you in the morning, and argue about what we’re going to have for dinner, and…" A vivid red stains his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away. Heat rises to Kamui’s face and he can feel his eyes start to water as he leans forward almost in unison with Julian. Their noses brush. "I want to live."

Kamui moves one of his hands, slipping his arm through the bar to grip the back of Julian’s neck, pulling him in closer and crashing their lips together. A low sound makes its way out of Julian’s throat at that. As they pull away seconds later, Kamui tilts his head forward, and Julian copies him, although the bars prevent their foreheads from making contact.

"I’ll protect you," Kamui whispers. Julian stares down at him with lidded eyes, his silver irises unfocused, lips parted. "All of those things, I’ll get them for you. No matter what."

A breathless sounding laugh escapes Julian’s lips. He’s smiling as he says, "You know what? I believe you."

"Good." He leans forward again, easily meeting Julian’s lips as the doctor mirrors his actions, eager for more contact. Pulling back, they stare into each other’s eyes, Julian’s lower lip tugged between his teeth. After a few tender moments pass, Julian takes a step back, pulling the lever inside the lift to take him down. Their eyes don’t break contact until he’s descended too far for Kamui to see anymore.

Like an afterthought, Kamui leans as close to the bars as he can get, calling down into the depths, "Julian! Send the lift back up for me!"

Several moments pass in total silence. Kamui slumps against the iron gate, wondering if he’d been heard. And if he had been… would Julian listen? His intuition tells him _no_ , that he shouldn’t expect to see it come back up anytime soon, and certainly not without Julian there inside. But he wants to ignore that so badly, that he remains rooted to the spot, waiting.

There’s a weight on his shoulders and he turns, angling his head to see Asra sidling up next to him. The look on his face is inscrutable, but not positive. He stares down into the dark abyss before meeting Kamui’s eye. His hands move down around Kamui’s waist, holding him as he remains stationary, head resting uncomfortably against the bars.

"Do you think he meant it?" Kamui says, voice barely above a whisper.

There’s no traces of hesitation in Asra’s voice as he whispers back, "Without a doubt." Nodding slowly, Kamui turns away from the bars to fit himself against Asra’s chest, leaning on his shoulder.

"He’s not going to send it back up."

"No," Asra agrees. Soft hairs brush Kamui’s skin as he looks around at the dank, cavernous hallway around them. "This place… isn’t going to do you any favors right now, Kamui. Let’s go back upstairs, okay?" Kamui just nods, taking a few more moments in Asra’s warm embrace before stepping away, allowing himself to be lead back into the library.

Once outside, they find Portia, who leads them back to their room—or, rather, Kamui’s, although he considered it to be _theirs_ at this point—chatting with them along the way. After informing her of Julian’s whereabouts and that she should expect him at her cabin later, she tells them Nadia has invited them to join her in the main hall for a bit of dance practice. The invitation causes Kamui to perk up. The promise of new clothing, on top of that, puts a bounce in his step, with Asra softly chuckling at his reactions from off to his side.

"Milady had a room prepared for you, Asra," Portia says, looking back over her shoulder briefly to catch the look of surprise flitting over Asra’s face.

"I’m not with Kamui?" There’s a hint of disappointment in his tone that Kamui finds particularly endearing. If a little saddening, in the event that he thinks about it for a little too long.

"Don’t worry, lovebird, it’s right next door. You can sneak over whenever you want, just don’t be too loud," she says, tossing an absolutely devious grin over her shoulder. It has Kamui snickering while Asra turns bright red, shocked to hear her say that.

"Wh… Don’t laugh!"

"You’re cute," Kamui says, his voice lilting. "Asra, you can sneak over to _sleep_ with me anytime…" Portia giggles like an absolute child at that, while Asra ducks his head, embarrassed.

As promised, his room is the next door down from Kamui’s, and as Portia tells them their clothes are waiting for them in their own rooms, they part to get changed. Portia follows Kamui into his room to help him get changed. The [garments](https://file.toyhou.se/images/14281667_homoo2bmZpeL60N.png) that are waiting draped over the bed are absolutely gorgeous; smooth silk, with gold embroidery along the airy sleeves of the dress that remind Kamui of the pants he used to wear. There’s a pair of red boots that are almost taller than his legs are, with a variety of red and gold sashes to decorate his waist with.

"Nadia really pays attention, huh," he comments, smoothing a hand over the fabric of the ribbon that, presumably, would tie the sashes in place. "It’s beautiful… I’m almost not so sure I deserve this."

"Nonsense!" Portia tuts. "Milady loves you. You know she’d go way further than this for her favorite magician." She punctuates her statement with a wink. "Speaking of, you’re still wearing the emerald she gave you, aren’t you?"

Letting the ribbon drift from his fingers, he tugs off his shawl, draping it over the bed next to the finery. The emerald sits in the center of his chest, and he lifts it up, reversing the heart-cut emerald for the two to view.

"It, um," Kamui starts, turning a light shade of pink. "It has Asra’s magic in it. I feel like it’s special because of that. Like I should keep it on… does that make sense?"

Portia smiles up at him. "Aww, that’s so sweet." Her smile turns a bit more teasing, and she adds, "You guys are a couple of saps, you know that? Like a bunch of newlyweds."

Caught a little off guard, Kamui’s hand twitches around the emerald, as several thoughts flood his mind all that once. Proposals, white and gold finery, flowers, champagne, a wedding ceremony… His face warms at the thought.

"Uh-oh. Did I put some thoughts into your head…? Asra’s in trouble now…"

At her entirely accurate guess, Kamui turns away, a little flustered. "It’s too soon," he says. Clearing his throat, he quickly changes the subject. "So, um, this dress…"

Portia chuckles, but easily accepts his dodge, swooping in to lift up the silky garment. While Kamui changes into the underclothes, she turns her back to give him some privacy, before turning back around to help him into the dress and sashes.

"So," Portia starts, "You’re pretty popular, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Asra, and then there’s Ilya," she clarifies. "He’s absolutely infatuated with you, it’s embarrassing." She sighs, shaking her head. "You know, I wasn’t sure before yesterday, but when you were busy with your training? He just wouldn’t shut up about you, it was like every other word had to do with you. I wasn’t sure if he had a crush on you, or what."

Kamui’s face warms. "We were, um. Together, I suppose."

"And, let me guess, he got all melodramatic and waxed poetic about how he’s _so_ tragic and will just end up ruining your life."

"There was an… argument, yeah," he admits. "He’s just so… _convinced_. I’m trying to get him to knock it off, but I don’t even know where it’s all coming from. Did someone hurt him?"

"Not that I know of," Portia muses. "He’s kind of just… always been like this. But you’re good for him, I think. You don’t take any of his bullshit."

Kamui smiles at that. They settle into a comfortable silence for a few moments, as Portia finishes up with his sash. The smile starts to fade, becoming something more wistful. "He… he told me he wants a future with me," he says, fiddling nervously with his longest strand of hair. Glancing over his shoulder, he catches sight of Portia’s expression, eyes round with surprise.

"He did? Whoa. That’s a lot, coming from him."

Kamui turns halfway in her direction, flashing a charming smile. "Maybe I’m just so irresistible. I _do_ have two lovers, after all."

Snickering, Portia says, "Oh, and you’re _so_ humble." Laughing along with her, Kamui seats himself on the edge of the bed, tugging on the thigh-length boots. "Hey, you know, _speaking_ of your lovers… What’s going on between them?"

"They used to… well, not date, I don’t think. I don’t know what to call what they were, other than incredibly complicated," Kamui explains. "Keep this a secret, please?"

Portia mimes zipping up her mouth. "My lips are sealed, messere," she says, imitating a posh accent.

With a slight chuckle, Kamui continues. "I think Julian still has feelings for Asra. Er, no. He _does_ have feelings for him. It’s Asra that I’m still wondering about. He’s, um… well, he’s pretty focused on me. And that’s fine. I love the attention, but I worry that he’s… I don’t know, denying himself something he wants because he won’t even face it? And at the same time, it’s not even any of my business. I just want them both to be happy, and how great would it be if we were _all_ dating? Sharing a bed would be so much less awkward."

Steepling her hands, Portia hums, thoughtful. "I think I understand. But what’s keeping them? Other than what you’ve just said, I mean."

"I…" he trails off, pondering. "I think it’s Asra. He needs more time, but I wonder if he’s… actually thinking about it at all? Sometimes I think… I don’t know, can I just lock them in a closet and they can face their unrelenting sexual tension, or does that only work in fiction?"

That forces a startled laugh out of Portia. "Oh wow, you read that kind of stuff then, huh? You know, I get the feeling a locked door can’t keep either one of them."

"You’re right." Kamui sighs. "I should just be patient, I guess." _As hard as that is for me to do_. "There’s more important things to be worried about, anyway."

He stands, smoothing out his outfit and twisting his legs, getting used to the feel of the boots. They were loose around the top, yet had no trouble with slouching. Moving his arms, he finds he enjoys the way the sleeves swish through the air, twirling side to side a little bit to get a feel for the costume’s movement.

"Wow, you look really good!" Portia praises. That brings a smile to Kamui’s face, and he thanks her before stepping over to a nearby mirror, preening. "Do you want to wear the emerald, too?"

The jewelry is danging from her hand when he turns to look. The piece had been pretty central to all his recent outfits; he couldn’t resist taking it from her and hanging it from his neck, grazing his fingers over the polished surface. It tickled his skin with lingering magic. It felt nice to have it on him, a delicate reminder of Asra’s calming presence.

Afterwards, Portia leads him out into the main hall, where he finds the three princesses from earlier, alongside Nadia herself. It felt a little odd to see the Countess after he’d just carted around a wanted criminal right under her nose, but he does his best to make himself forget about that, facing her with a more casual, yet graceful ease. The outfit made it easier for him to get into that mindset.

For a short while, he chats with the three princesses. They seem to have good impressions of him already, with Nahara and Navra complimenting his energy and perceived magical prowess. He wasn’t sure how much he believed their assessment, but it flatters him nonetheless. They were all quite pleasant, even if Nadia did seem at least a little tense with them around.

"Is your teacher going to be here, too?" Navra asks, standing slightly too far into his personal space, her hands trailing over her braid. It’s a relief to have someone use a term other than ‘master’ for once; for that, he’s grateful.

"I hope so," he says, glancing back at Nadia for confirmation. As if she would know, somehow. "I kind of thought he would already be here?"

"Is that him, right there?" Navra asks, pointing up towards the grand staircase with no sense of subtlety. The group turns, spotting a figure dressed in blue and gold finery at the top of the staircase. The room falls into silence to watch Asra descend the staircase, the gold decals of his dress lightly glittering under the light of the chandelier. There’s a deep blush on his face from all the extra attention. He ducks his head to escape it, avoiding direct eye contact with any of the princesses.

Once reaching the bottom, he picks his head up, spotting Kamui watching him from across the room. The anxiety on his face vanishes in an instant as a soft smile overtakes it, banishing all else. He makes a beeline for Kamui, slowing to a stop several feet away from him. The blush starts to return, and he stammers, "Wh, What?"

It’s then that Kamui realizes he’s done nothing but stare, eyes wide and mouth hung slightly open. The realization brings heat to _his_ face, too, and only worsens as the princesses turn to look at him. But he pushes those thoughts away, focusing on the way the dress hugged Asra’s body, complimenting the strength of his arms and giving off just the slightest hint of a muscular abdomen. It was driving him absolutely wild. And that was ignoring the overall beauty of the look, the fine details, how perfectly the colors, the shape, the style suited him.

Kamui was overcome with the urge to do a lot of things to him that would get him banished from the palace in an instant. Maybe—Maybe later.

With a deep, dreamy sigh, he says, "You’re beautiful," eyes glittering with tender affection. Surprise flickers over Asra's face, a deep blush burning his skin. He smiles coyly, mirroring a bit of the besotted nature of Kamui's expression.

"Do you like it?" he asks, parting his lips with a coquettish grin.

 _You look like a snack and I would devour you if I could,_ Kamui thinks.

"Your look is especially captivating," Asra continues, while his apprentice continues to be too stunned to form words. "I almost didn’t recognize you. You look stunning."

The compliment sets his heart fluttering. Smiling softly, he reaches up for the emerald, lightly grasping around the gemstone. He’s not sure what to say. One thing in particular floods over his tongue, but—maybe he shouldn’t, not yet. Instead they’re both left smiling, staring at each other like lovestruck idiots.

It’s Nadia that breaks the silence with a soft titter. "With all the work you’ve been doing, there hasn’t been much time to just stop and enjoy yourselves, has there?" Kamui thinks to refute that, but doesn’t want to put a stop to whatever she's about to suggest. "Are you much for dancing, Kamui?"

Without even noticing, Kamui readjusts the position of his feet into more of a ballet stance, saying, "I love dancing."

"Splendid," Nadia responds. "This room is the only part of the palace that has yet to be transformed for the masquerade. It would make a good place to practice your dancing before the festivities commence."

Asra takes several steps closer to him. With a sly quirk of his lips, he says, "But wherever will you find a partner?"

Laughing breathlessly, Kamui grins wider. It was harder than ever to look anywhere but at Asra, making it difficult for him to so much as pretend to consider anyone else. "Mmm, I don’t know. Do you have any suggestions?" he teases.

Closing the gap between them, Asra slides his hand into one of Kamui’s, tangling their fingers together and bringing them against his lips with a gentle kiss. Their eyes are completely locked on each other, as he says, "I have a suggestion…"

 _I have so many,_ Kamui thinks, heart pounding,  _and none of them are decent_.

Asra leads him over to the center of the hall, while the royals gather a variety of instruments to perform the musical accompaniment for their dance. It feels a little too fantastical, like a scene from a book or play. But that’s a lot of what he loves about it, and he supposes these sorts of things weren’t too out there when you’re being spoiled by royalty. He hardly deserved it, not with all the secrets he was carrying right under the Countess’ nose, but it was hard to care, with the way Asra was looking at him so hungrily.

"What are you thinking?" Kamui asks, while the royals prepare their instruments. Before answering, Asra grins in that mischievous, nothing-but-trouble way he so often did, grasping onto both of Kamui’s hands and placing them on his hips. He could feel the shape of the magician’s body beneath his hands and it was giving him way too many ideas.

A warm hand grazes over the bare skin of his chest; and there was a lot of it, with how wide the low, v-shaped cut of his dress went. With no one currently watching them, Asra presses his hand against warmed, pale skin, dragging down slowly over the planes of Kamui’s chest. His breath catches in his throat, flesh burning beneath Asra’s hand.

"You look delicious," he purrs, leaning in to brush his lips against Kamui’s cheek. It sends a shiver down his spine.

"No more than you," he retorts. Before Asra can protest that, he silences him with a kiss. There’s the sound of someone cheering in the background before they part, with Asra looking a touch embarrassed, turning his head away from the source of the voice. Kamui chuckles softly.

As the music starts up, Asra places a hand on Kamui’s waist, raising his other hand up by their shoulders. Kamui raises a brow, while Asra meets his gaze with a sly look.

"You’re leading?"

"Any complaints…?" Asra purrs, to which Kamui just scoffs, grinning.

They match the pace of the music, stepping in perfect time with each other. It’s less energetic than their last dance, but no less exhilarating. There’s no trace of inexperience to be found in Asra’s movements, as he guides his apprentice along the dance floor, spinning and twirling, legs locking, eyes catching.

"You’re good at this," Kamui comments. If he were being honest, he hadn’t ever expected Asra to be the type to know how to dance. Nopal had proved him wrong, although that was a little different than this. Just as heated, but far more classy.

"I had a good teacher," Asra says vaguely. His smile grows. "It’s nice to see you still like dancing so much. I wasn’t sure you’d pick it up again…"

"I guess it’s only natural that I’d go back to everything I used to love," he muses. "I’m still the same person, after… What?"

The look on Asra’s face flickers from surprise to embarrassment, eyes wide and cheeks a vivid, deep red. "Nothing," he dismisses, his voice coming out in an odd little squeak. Clearing his throat, he looks anywhere but at Kamui as he says, "You taught yourself to dance again?"

Oblivious, Kamui merely nods, saying, "In my spare time. It just felt nice to move around… eventually I found out what I was doing was called _dancing_ , and I took it a little more seriously. Faust danced with me sometimes. Other times, I just made a partner from a spell."

"I thought about teaching you to dance," Asra says.

"What stopped you?"

Violet eyes roam across his body appreciatively. "You," Asra responds. "If we’d done this sort of thing back then… I don’t know if I could have stopped myself from kissing you, or… something like that."

Kamui laughs. "Is your self control really that bad?"

"With you? It's the worst."

"Right," Kamui starts, stepping forward a little farther than usual and bringing the bare skin of their chests together. It has the desired effect of knocking all the breath out of Asra's chest in a muted gasp. "Because I’m just so irresistible."

There’s a bit of a dizzy look in the magician’s eyes as he leans forward, their lips barely inches apart before Kamui steps back, dominating their movements for just a moment to spin Asra, twirling him into a dip. He grins deviously as Asra lets out a huff of a laugh. Bringing them back up, Asra immediately takes control to spin Kamui around, arms crossed, chest pressed against Kamui’s back. They lean into each other, craving the contact. Warm, soft lips drag along the line of Kamui’s neck, leaving a kiss right below his ear and drawing a heated gasp from his throat.

Once they’re face-to-face again, Kamui says, "Once we’re alone…"

"Yes…?" Asra purrs, grinning deviously.

"I’m going to tear you out of this dress," Kamui says, low, quiet, almost a growl. "Actually, fuck that, I love this dress on you. The rest of it, though…"

Asra chuckles. One of his hands slides into Kamui’s hair. "I like it when you’re aggressive," he says. "You’re so careful now. I can take a little abuse, you know."

"Oh, I’m sorry, are we too vanilla?" Kamui laughs. "What an amazing conversation we’re having in the presence of royalty."

"You started it."

"You kissed my neck, _you_ started it."

A playful laugh parts Asra’s lips, his expression warm and bright. One, or perhaps both, of them pull the other closer. The look Asra gives as he gazes longingly, _lovingly_ , at Kamui has his pulse jumping, his body warming considerably. He only hoped ‘ _I’m pale and have been moving around a lot_ ’ was a good enough excuse for the pale pink blush spreading over his bare chest to anyone who was looking.

Heart hammering away in his chest, Kamui says, "I don’t know how I never noticed you had feelings for me."

"Maybe I’m just really sneaky," Asra says, with a cheeky grin. "There’s a lot of things you never noticed…"

"Like what?"

Grinning wider, Asra leans in, brushing their cheeks together as he whispers lowly into Kamui’s ear. "Like… when I would touch myself, thinking of you." Kamui gasps, his body temperature sharply rising. "I used to say your name sometimes… I was so sure you could hear it, but you never said anything about it." Soft lips press over the shell of his ear, causing him to shudder. "One night, I even did it right next to you, in our bed, while you were asleep. And yet, you claim to be such a light sleeper…" 

Kamui swallows hard. "This is the most erotic ballroom dance I’ve ever experienced," he squeaks. It just has Asra laughing, pulling back with a quick kiss to Kamui’s cheek.

"I should hope so."

Kamui tilts his head forward, leaning against Asra’s forehead, their steps slowing in time with the music. "How long have you felt this way about me?" he asks.

"Since the day we met," Asra says, quickly and easily, absolutely sure of his answer. "There’s just something… magnetic about you. And back then, you were a bit wild."

Immensely interested, Kamui’s eyes widen, giving Asra his full attention; not that he wasn’t already. The music could have stopped an hour ago, and he wouldn’t have noticed. "Really?" he prompts. "How long ago was that?"

"Mmm… how long do you think we’ve known each other?"

That was a question he'd pondered multiple times over, always giving up as his head started to ache. Now, though, everything seemed fine, like nothing could hurt him. He takes a moment to think it over. With the ease at which they’d settled into a relationship, and with how infatuated Asra seemed to be despite all their time spent apart over the last three years, it must have been quite awhile, right?

"Five years," Kamui guesses. A two year relationship was pretty substantial; long enough to get past all the butterflies and into something real. Definitely enough for them to be living together, or so Kamui thought. Even if it wasn’t… he acted fast, so it was a little different.

Asra grins. "Longer than that," he says.

"Seven years…?" His grin just grows wider.

"Longer."

Kamui’s eyes widen. "E-Eight?"

Asra’s voice is lilting as he says, "Nope. Longer."

How was that even possible? Eight years ago… Asra would have been only nineteen. Could it be that they met as teenagers? Surely it didn’t go even further back than that.

"You seem surprised," Asra comments, dragging Kamui out of his thoughts.

"I didn’t realize it was that serious," Kamui replies. "Were we together that entire time?"

"Not quite… although you were clinging to me from day one," he teases. "I just wasn’t ready for how strong you came on."

Kamui laughs. "Even from the start, I moved fast, huh? It’s a good thing you were more prepared this time around."

"Compared to the last time…" Asra trails off, shaking his head. "Maybe I shouldn’t reveal too much. I’d hate to ruin this moment by giving you a headache."

"You could give me head, instead," Kamui jokes, not missing a beat.

For a moment, Asra just stares at him, eyes wide, before bursting into laughter. It spreads quickly to Kamui, and they devolve into an energetic fit of childish giggles as they twirl, clinging happily to one another. With the renewed burst of energy, they glide along the dance floor, following along with the song and ending with a flourish as the song builds to a crescendo. Asra dips Kamui over his knee, smiling down at him for only a moment before capturing his lips in a heated kiss. With one hand wrapped around Asra’s, fingers tangled, he throws his free arm around the magician’s shoulders, holding him close.

It takes awhile for them to part, easing back up onto their feet. The sound of clapping in the background slowly fades into their periphery, and with an amused grin, Asra bows deeply, Kamui following suit immediately afterwards.

Hand-in-hand, they meet the princesses halfway across the hall. Navra is the first to speak, applauding their dance and its ‘ _sensual energy_ ’. Both magicians turn a bit red at that, with the knowledge of the kinds of things they’d said to each other. After each of them has had a chance to comment on the dance, Nadia points out the flushed tones of the magician’s bodies, suggesting they retreat to the veranda for some nice, cold drinks.

Once out in the pleasant, chilly evening air, they settle around Nadia’s tea table, which is already prepped with enough chairs to fit everyone before they’ve even reached it. A serving of lemonade is waiting for them, the likes of which is more expertly prepared than Kamui’s ever experienced. It was some kind of blend he didn’t recognize, but loved right away.

Asra sits close at his side, their hands clasped over his thigh. While Kamui sips his drink, Navra starts firing off questions, seemingly delighted with their romance.

"When did you two meet?" She looks to Kamui as she asks, but it’s Asra who responds, swiftly rescuing him before he can get backed into a corner with his lack of knowledge.

"It was nine years ago," he says. Kamui shoots him a look, surprised. "At the masquerade. It was the first time I’d ever gone inside, but," he pauses, meeting Kamui’s eye before continuing, "He was practically a veteran guest. At the time, I was just a wandering magician. During the masquerade, I would sell the masks my friend and I made, and that year I just so happened to have set up my tent behind Kamui’s shop."

Kamui’s… _Wait,_ my _shop? It wasn’t Asra’s…?_

Asra gives his hand a gentle squeeze. The princesses, Nadia included, were watching Asra speak with rapt attention, curious to find out more. None were more curious than Kamui himself, however. This was so much more information than Asra had ever given him, and it didn’t even hurt. It didn’t spark any grand realizations or memories, either, which… maybe explained the lack of pain.

He tries not to think about it, to recall any of the memories attached to Asra’s words, lest he ruin the moment.

"The two of you have such a beautiful aura about you," Navra says, swooning slightly in Nasmira’s direction. "Truly inspiring!"

"Yes, the two of you are rather close, aren’t you?" Nadia says. She casts a knowing smile upon the two magicians. "I hadn’t guessed, upon our first meeting. Yet, seeing the two of you together earlier, it didn't surprise me."

"You fit very well together," Nasmira agrees, touching her fingertips to her chin.

Smiling brightly, Kamui leans to the side, resting his head on Asra’s shoulder. The embroidery of his dress is softer than expected. Gentle hairs brush his forehead as Asra turns, pressing a kiss to to the top of his head and prompting him to chuckle.

The conversation drifts to other topics, then, while they sip their drinks, enjoying each other’s company. It’s incredibly peaceful, reminding him a little of the night before. If only Julian could share it with them…

A bird caws overhead, drawing their attention. Atop a pillar nearby rests a familiar black-feathered bird, his beady black eyes seeming to stare right back at Kamui. The sight fills him with dread; what was he doing here? Shouldn’t he have followed Julian back to Portia’s cottage…?

Unless…

His grip on Asra’s hand tightens outside his notice. He looks sidelong at the magician, whose gaze is fixed anxiously on the bird. So he knew, then.

The clanking of armor beneath the balcony has Kamui tensing up, panic lacing through his body, and he has to fight to resist the urge to jump into action. One of the guards yells out an order, bringing the group’s attention to the courtyard.

"What in the world…?" Nadia says. She gets to her feet, attempting to get a look over the edge of the balcony before giving up and heading down the steps.

Kamui shoots Asra a fearful look, before they follow after the others, down into the courtyard. What they find isn’t quite what he’d pictured in his mind; right on the lip of the fountain, with his legs crossed at the knee, Julian sat, changed back from out of his borrowed palace uniform and feigning a casual nature as he’s surrounded by castle guards on nearly all sides. It’s easy to see through the act, to the trembling of his hands and the stiffness of his posture. It was to Kamui, at least.

To his left, Asra raises a hand, and Kamui quickly grabs onto it, bringing it back down. "They’ll notice," he hisses, voice lowered to a whisper. The look he’s given is unexpectedly tense, a certain kind of panic swirling behind those violet irises of his.

"It’s about time someone noticed," Julian says, speaking loud and clear for everyone in the area to hear. "I’ve been waiting for quite awhile."

"What is the meaning of this?" Nadia demands, storming to the front of the group with a frankly terrifying scowl on her face. To his credit, Julian doesn’t flinch.

He jumps to his feet with a flourish of his cape, causing the guards to his right to aim their weapons closer in his direction. It doesn’t phase him. "What does it look like? I’ve come to turn myself in," he declares. "I, Julian Devorak, confess to the murder of the late Count Lucio!"

 _No! No, no no_ —

"St—" Kamui starts, rushing forward only to be immediately pulled back, a hand clapping around his mouth, silencing him. If not for his horrible anxiety making it difficult to move, he might’ve tried to struggle, but as it was, the initial declaration had only been an impulse. He wasn’t so sure he could do it again.

Asra’s grip on his arm loosens with that knowledge, swapping easily into something that appeared more as a comforting, almost protective embrace. Right by Kamui’s ear, he whispers near-silently, "You can’t. They’ll take you too."

 _But_ — _But I_ … 

"They’ll kill him," Kamui whispers back, distressed. "They’ll kill him, _they’ll kill him…_ "

Watching Julian freely hold out his wrists for a guard to clap him in irons has Kamui feeling on the verge of tears, or throwing up, or passing out, or all three in some sort of order. This couldn’t be happening. What was he supposed to do? Would Nadia listen to him if he told her Julian was innocent? How much time would he have to make that happen? Surely they’d leave him in a holding cell overnight at the very least.

But what if she wasn’t swayed? Did he even have the proper amount of evidence? If she didn’t release him, what would he do then? Break him out? But then Julian couldn’t possibly stay in Vesuvia, and as much as Kamui wanted to see the rest of the world, he wasn’t _ready_ , and he didn’t want to let go of Julian so soon, he still had his shop to run and, and, he couldn’t go on the run—

His heart is pounding painfully loud in his ears, almost blocking out the sound of Asra’s voice. "Kamui. Do you trust me?"

What? What kind of question was that?

"Of course I do," Kamui manages to say, finding it intensely hard to breathe, like there was something clamping tight around his lungs. Asra’s arms shift, grasping onto Kamui’s biceps and turning him to face him. Soft lips press tight against his, lingering long enough to have Kamui gasping for air once they part. The dizziness following that is enough to delay his reaction as Asra steps forward, pushing to the front of the crowd.

"Wait!" he shouts, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. He shrinks under the attention, but pushes past that, his throat bobbing as he swallows harshly. "I confess! I set the fire!"

Kamui’s jaw drops.

"What?!" Julian exclaims. The mask of bravado on his face instantly shatters, a mixture of shock and panic flickering over his features. "No, no no no, there was no accomplice! I did everything myself!"

"I set the fire that killed the Count," Asra reiterates, "It was me."

"He’s lying!" Julian insists, struggling against his bonds. However, his words go entirely ignored, as the nearest guard exchanges a look with the Countess, who’s just as stunned as everyone else. For a moment, she seems at a loss for what to do. It was clear she didn’t believe anything Asra was saying, but her duty required her to act. She nods to the guard, who steps forward, drawing the cuffs from their belt.

"Wait," Kamui starts, his feet carrying him closer towards Asra. "You can’t—He didn’t do anything!"

The magician faces forward, ignoring the sound of his apprentice rushing towards him from behind. Before he can get anywhere close, Nadia throws out her arm, halting him. They exchange a look, sympathy in the Countess’ eyes as she looks down at him. He’s stuck, watching helplessly as Asra holds up his hands, perfectly still as the guard puts the cuffs around his wrists, much gentler than the treatment Julian was shown.

Was there nothing he could do? Was he truly powerless to stop this?

Unable to take his eyes off of the scene playing out before him, he pleads, " _Nadia_. Nadia, please, you can’t let them take him."

She says nothing, keeping her arm held out in front of him. It was wise of her; anxiety be damned, he would throw himself right into the middle of this if it meant he had any chance at saving him, at saving both of them. With Asra at his side, it was different; he wouldn’t be alone. If the worst came to pass, either the magician would help him bust Julian out, or hold him as he grieved. But, with neither of them?

As the guards cart off the two people he cared about the most, he’s pretty sure he stops breathing. It all happens in a blur, dizzying to such a degree that when he ends up back on the balcony, for a split second he’s convinced it was all a dream, a vivid hallucination. But Asra wasn’t in the seat next to him; it was Nadia, rubbing gentle circles into his back as he hunches over himself, on the verge of tears. One of the sisters—he couldn’t remember the differences in their voices anymore—is trying to tell him to breathe deeply, but it’s not registering.

Eventually his breaths even out, though he doesn’t remember doing anything to help with that. When he raises his head, the look on the faces of the women around him are all sympathetic, even Nahara. Not a single one of them appears annoyed or uncomfortable, much to his relief. He turns to Nadia, eyes glistening with tears.

"You can’t do this," he says, voice wavering. "He doesn’t even kill spiders, he would never do something like this."

"I believe you," Nadia readily says. Her response is, somehow, incredibly surprising. It wouldn’t have been like her for her to respond harshly, yet he was so sure she would have put up some kind of argument. "You don’t need to worry, dear Kamui. I won’t have an innocent person put to death like this; I’m not my husband." Her expression sours at the mention of him. "Both of them will be put on trial tomorrow, at the coliseum."

Kamui’s eyes widen, tears drying up. "What? Really?"

"It hasn’t been made public yet, but I have put forth plans to reform Vesuvia’s justice system," she explains. "No one is getting put to death without a fair trial."

He raises up, straightening out his posture. A slight smile crosses Nadia’s features as determination burns bright in his eyes. "I’ll represent them," he declares.

"‘Them’?"

"Both of them. Doctor Devorak is innocent, and I’ll prove it."

There’s a few gasps from some of the princesses, but he ignores them, focusing directly on the Countess. Interest tugs at the corners of her lips. "Is that so? I’m looking forward to finding out how."


	10. Justice

The sun streams in through the mosaic windows, providing more light to illuminate the pages before him. There’s a painful burning in his eyes that’s been getting harder to ignore the more the books' vocabularies start to grow in length. It’s so mind-numbing that a series of clicking noises behind him don’t even register. At least, not until footsteps carry someone over in his direction, leaning forward to peer up at his expression from his spot at Julian’s old desk.

Portia’s face enters into his periphery. There’s a look of curiosity and bemusement on her face that quickly morphs into open concern as she spots the bags under his eyes, much more prominent than usual. "There you are," she starts, "I was looking all over for you. Milady told me to bring your breakfast to your room."

She holds up a tray, containing a luxurious meal of fruits, bread, meat, and freshly brewed chamomile tea. The sight and smell have his stomach twisting with intense hunger pangs. It occurs to him, belatedly, that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast. The bottles Mazelinka had given to him were still in Asra’s bag. So much for that; he couldn’t feed her grandson anymore than she could.

Wordlessly, he brushes aside the pile of books and parchment from the top of the desk, clearing room for Portia to set down the tray. Afterwards, she drags over a nearby chair, perching atop it. Angling the book from before within his sight, he picks at the meal before him and struggles to focus on reading. It was just so—boring. How did anyone learn anything from stuff like this?

Tearing off a section of some kind of meat with his bare hands, he holds it over his shoulder. Faust pops out of his dress, eagerly accepting the morsel from his fingertips. For a moment, Portia startles, but quickly settles, easily figuring out that the snake wasn’t there without Kamui’s knowledge. Fitting herself back under the shoulder of his dress, Faust remains coiled around his arm, radiating a comforting aura.

"Uh, Kamui? Have you gotten any sleep?" Portia tentatively asks.

It takes him longer than it should to formulate a response, as if he’d been asked for the answer to a complicated math equation. "No," he eventually responds. The look on his face _feels_ heavy and unwelcoming, and it must look particularly unfriendly, as Portia shrinks back a bit at the sight of him.

"You look terrible," she says.

"Yeah," he responds, not having actually registered a single thing she’d said. He pops a piece of fruit in his mouth.

"The trial’s this afternoon. You’re not going to show up like this, are you?"

"It gets easier to ignore how tired you are when there’s more going on," he says, slowly and quietly, to such a degree that Portia starts leaning slightly forward just to hear him. He turns away, back to the book on the desk. "I can’t sleep like this, anyway."

"You really, really should try," Portia insists. "There’s _a lot_ at stake here, Kamui, and—"

"I _know_ that," he snaps, causing her to flinch at the unexpected outburst, the heat in his tone. "Of course I know that! Asra is _everything_ to me, and I don’t want to see Julian die, either." He sighs, burying his face in his hands, fingers tightening around locks of hair. It felt so, so good to close his eyes, tight, against the burning pain, the light streaming in through the windows. His eyes watered a little from the sting.

And the stress, but he’d rather believe it was the pain, alone.

"I’m sorry," he says, mumbling a little. "I’m just…" _Really, really scared_. "…Stressed."

Portia lets out a breath. "I… I understand," she says. "This is… a lot, huh?" Kamui raises his head at the sound of her voice breaking mid-sentence, to find tears beginning to pool in her eyes. "It’s just… he’s so stupid! How could he just go and turn himself in like that?! I thought—You said that he—"

"I know! Trust me, I know, I don’t get it. He’s always been so ready to just… throw in the towel, but this is… I mean, I really thought we were done with this." Frustrated, he shoves the book aside, flinching at the noise of several others falling off the side of the desk. Regardless, he ignores them, lifting up a chunk of bread and angrily chewing on it.

"What are we going to do?" Portia asks. "I mean, what if something happens? If you can’t prove him innocent?"

"Then someone has to take him, and run," Kamui responds, steadfast. "Me, you, anyone. I won’t see anything bad happen to him."

There’s a sigh born of equal parts relief and exhaustion from Portia. "I’m glad you’re on my side in this, Kamui. I’ll do whatever I can. I… I know a ship captain, we can get a boat, and… a carriage… We can put him in a cloak, and then… Oh, I’ll have to find out where they’ll put him after the trial… hmm."

"Just pray it doesn’t come to that," Kamui sighs, rubbing at his eyes as he stuffs more food into his mouth at random. "I know I could probably prove Asra’s innocence fairly easily, but Julian? I… I know he didn’t do it. He has an alibi, but I can’t prove it."

"He _does_?"

"He was locked in the dungeons at the time of the murder," Kamui says, explaining to her everything he’d learned of what really happened at the scene of the crime; leaving out the bits about the ritual, which didn’t strictly need to be said. "He couldn’t have done it, but I don’t… I don’t remember how I know this. And that’s why I can’t prove he didn’t do it, and that’s also why I’ve spent the last few hours researching courts of law instead of sleeping. And god, but I’m so tired. These textbooks are like gibberish."

Rubbing his eyes again, he turns to Portia, saying, "What the fuck is a subpeona, anyway?"

Chuckling a bit nervously, Portia responds, "It means, you should take a nap after you’re finished eating. No offense, Kamui, but court is going to kick your ass six ways to Sunday if you show up _this_ tired."

"I guess," he grumbles.

"Oh, come on, sourpuss. Focus on eating your breakfast and… I’ll tell you a story," Portia says. "You remember what Ilya was talking about in the parlor yesterday? Well, let me tell you how it _really_ went…" 

As she spins her less-than-grand tale of her and Julian’s childhood, Kamui focuses as best he can, smiling at several points. By the time she’s finished, he’s distractedly finished most of the meal laid out before him, with Faust happily finishing off the meats. He only hopes it doesn’t make her sick; he wasn’t so sure it was a good amount of food for a snake to be eating, and he didn’t want Asra upset with either of them. In his defense, though, he was very tired, and she was very sneaky.

Finishing off the chamomile tea, he puts his face in his hands, letting his eyes rest for what turns out to be an extended period of time. Eventually he hears Portia speak up again, and it prompts him to lower his hands.

"Did you want me to walk you back to your room? You look _really_ bad, Kamui."

"Wow, thanks," he deadpans. Leaning forward on his hands, he lets out a tired sigh, praying it would ease some of the aching weariness in his body. "I can’t rest. There’s only so much time until the trial and I still don’t know what I’m going to do to prove Julian’s innocence."

Pursing her lips, Portia says, "You could talk to him." That gets him to raise his head, giving her his attention. "They’re holding both of them at the coliseum. You’re with the palace, so they’d let you in to see them right away."

"I don’t know what talking to Julian has ever solved, but it’s the only idea I have, anyway," Kamui groans. "At least Asra will be there… I miss him."

"See? Silver linings. If I can’t convince you to sleep, then you might as well."

After taking care of the tray, Portia escorts him outside to where a carriage is already waiting for him. It was odd, riding in one when he was so used to walking everywhere, but right now, he was just tired enough that he appreciated the change. He wasn’t so sure he could make it to the coliseum otherwise.

Once there, they find the place crawling with bystanders and palace guards. They’re able to get in through an entrance reserved just for royalty and palace staff. The interior is much less rowdy, nothing but sand and brick walls with the occasional guard post. It came as no surprise that the place was crawling with security.

A nearby guard leads Kamui to the holding cell at Portia’s request; an iron door, with the smallest barred window he’s ever seen, installed into the brick. Two guards stand at attendance, and they barely cast him a glance as he approaches. One of them draws a key ring off her belt, unlocking the door to let him inside.

The interior is exactly as one would expect; dirt floors, torches, iron shackles on the walls. Along the center of the far wall, he sees his two lovers sittings on the ground, their adjacent hands bound to the wall behind them. They seem to be in the middle of some sort of tense conversation, with Asra looking unbelievably exhausted. Julian was faring a lot better, but appeared no less uncomfortable.

Their conversation halts the second Kamui enters the room, door falling closed behind him. Asra is on his feet in an instant, calling out his name as he dashes across the room. The chain bound around his left wrist stops him from making it all the way, as Julian slams into the brick, his right wrist squeezed as tight against the metal ring attached to the wall as it could possibly get. To his credit, Asra looks ashamed as he turns back around, assessing the damage.

"Sorry," he says.

Julian grumbles. "Buy me dinner first if you’re going to rough me up."

"We both know you’d let me do that anyway," Asra says, but still he takes a few steps back, giving Julian move room to move around. He turns back to Kamui afterwards, noticing how he’s just been standing there, only a few feet from the door, completely silent this whole time. "Kamui?"

The apprentice takes a deep breath, holding it for several long moments. When he eventually speaks, it’s in a low tone, reserved just for their ears and no one else. "What the fuck were you two thinking?" There’s no aggression, no heat; just ice, sending a shiver down Julian’s back and freezing Asra in place, causing both of them to pale. All Asra can do is stare, brows raising. So, Kamui continues, unable to keep the harsh tones out of his voice.

"That little stunt you two pulled last night could have gotten you both killed," he says.

"I knew there would be a trial," Asra blurts out. The admission gives Kamui pause, allowing him to speak. "I spoke to Nadia after arriving at the palace. She told me all about it there. I knew there wouldn’t be an execution, and there won’t be, if everything goes according to plan."

"And what kind of plan is that?" Kamui hisses, mindful of his volume while throwing his arms out at his sides. "What plan involves getting put on trial for murder? Do you even understand how serious this is? The both of you could _die_ , Asra."

"We won’t," Asra insists, putting his hands up in a pacifying gesture. "I’m sorry I did something like that so suddenly, and I’m sorry I left you alone to deal with the aftermath. Just know that I did this for—"

" _Don’t_ say you did this for me," Kamui snaps.

"Fine," Asra says tersely. "I did this for Ilya."

Kamui’s retort dies in his throat, gaping at Asra who just stares determinedly back at him. Scarlet eyes slide over to where Julian sits in the background, staring up at Asra not in shock, but something… different. Longing? Regret?

What the hell had gone on while he was away…?

Stunned speechless, all he can do is stare between the two of them as Asra continues. His voice is hushed, careful not to reach the ears of the guards outside. "I can get both of us out of this," he says. "I just need you to trust me."

"I do," Kamui responds, much softer and lighter sounding than before. "Of course I do, but this is a lot that you’re asking of me."

"I know. I’m sorry."

Exhaling an exhausted sigh, Kamui steps forward, taking both of Asra’s hands in his. "Don’t ever do this again," he says, leaning in for a kiss before Asra can get a word in edgewise. Pulling away, he adds, "You’re in so much fucking trouble when we get home."

A little breathless, Asra laughs, saying, "Oh? I’m looking forward to it."

Walking backwards, he leads Kamui back over to the wall, where they each sit down in the dirt. It mucks up Kamui’s pearly white dress, but he ignores it. He had enough magic in him to make it look good as new afterwards.

"Well," Julian starts, "Now that that’s all cleared up—"

Rounding on him, Kamui jabs a finger towards his face. "Oh, I’m not done with you, _Devorak_."

"Sp-Splendid," Julian stutters, turning a bit red in the face. "Alright, have at me then, mysterious lawyer who I’ve never met before."

"Oh, shut the fuck up. You know exactly who I am."

"I know you’re quite cross with me, despite having never met me before."

Leveling him with a flat look, Kamui raises back up, quickly casting the dirt off of him purely as a power move before stalking over to the wall beside the cell door. He reaches under his dress for the pinstriped shorts underneath, pulling a stick of charcoal out of the pocket. With it, he draws a symbol into the brick. Once it’s finished, he presses his hand against the center, pouring his magic into it until it glows blue, then fades, leaving behind the vague imprint of a symbol. He can hear Julian and Asra whispering to each other before he stalks back over to them, casting a barrier spell on himself to prevent from getting filthy as he sits back down.

"Explain yourself. _Now_ ," he commands.

Everything about what Kamui’s projecting has Julian turning bright red, intimidation and arousal intermingling on his face. "Ah… R-Right away," he stammers. "Er, I mean, that is…" He clears his throat, forcing a bold grin. "Well! You know how it is, anyway. Your partner here has everything under control, isn’t that right?"

"You purposefully turned yourself in, _knowing_ it would get you killed," Kamui says, thoroughly annoyed. "Was everything you said to me just a lie? That you wanted a future with me, that you wanted to live? Were you just saying what I wanted to hear, waiting for me to turn my back so you could turn yourself in?"

Julian’s eyes widen with shock. "No!" he exclaims. His expression turns more pleading as he continues, "Kamui, _no_. Everything I said was genuine, I promise. I want to be with you more than anything—"

"Oh, and getting yourself killed is the _greatest_ way to be with me." Kamui sighs, a hint of gravel in his tone, and he shakes his head, disbelieving. The evidence was completely stacked up against Julian’s claim—there was no other explanation for turning himself in that wasn’t a contradiction.

"That’s…" Julian trails off. Suddenly, his expression changes, from desperate to almost sneering in an instant. "This is just like I said it would be. I told you I’d only end up hurting you, and it’s happened. So, go ahead. Be mad at me. Yell at me. Hit me, if that’s what you really want. You might as well just go ahead and give up on me now, because—"

"No!" Kamui shouts, throwing Julian completely off guard and startling both him and Asra. His hands are like claws, uselessly grabbing at the air, so frustrated and _tired_ that he doesn’t even know what to say anymore. What ends up coming out of his mouth is, "You—Fucking—Goddamn—Moron!"

The sneer returns to Julian’s expression after that incredibly eloquent outburst. "That’s it," he says. "Do it. I deserve it, all of it."

"You don’t!" Kamui exclaims, oblivious to the fact that he’s doing it anyway; getting angry, yelling. As he speaks, he gestures roughly with his hands. "I’m worried _sick_ about you! About _both_ of you! I spent all night studying courts of law for you, because I don’t want you to die, even though you seem so thrilled about the concept of throwing your life away!"

"Kamui," Asra interrupts, gentle, but just loud enough to get his attention.

"No!" He snaps, looking to Asra for only a split second before refocusing on Julian. "I’m tired of this. You can’t just keep throwing yourself in harm’s way!"

"Kamui, _please_ ," Asra insists. He reaches out for his apprentice’s arms, meeting minimal resistance.

"I’m trying so hard for you, and you just go and throw it all in my face! Why won't you just let me help you?!"

Outside his notice, Asra starts wrapping Kamui up in his arms, pulling him towards his chest in a comforting embrace. It's only when Asra wraps a hand around the back of his head, angling his gaze away from Julian that he starts to struggle, accidentally elbowing Asra in the ribs in an attempt to shove him away. However, Asra remains steadfast, his hold far stronger than Kamui was capable of dealing with.

"Stop—" Kamui starts, "You’re going to—I’ll—"

"Just relax," Asra says soothingly, pulling Kamui tight against his body. Eventually all the fight leaves him and he crumples, anger beginning to evaporate as his eyes well up, a headache building in his temples. He covers his mouth behind both hands, burrowing into Asra’s shoulder as tears flow freely down his cheeks. A hand combs through his hair, gently stroking him. "It’s alright, Kamui. Everything’s going to be fine."

A sharp, muffled noise escapes his throat outside his control, shoulders shaking more from stress than the tears themselves. Carefully removing his hands from his mouth, he curls them around the soft fabric of Asra’s dress, _tight_. Meanwhile, Asra just continues stroking his hair, whispering soothing words into his ears.

Nearly a full minute later, Kamui feels a hand on his thigh, and peeks out from under Asra’s arm, seeing a black leather glove resting hesitantly on his leg, touch feather light. He removes one of his hands from Asra’s dress to wrap it around Julian’s fingers, squeezing.

"Kamui," Julian starts, his tone full of regret. "I—I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m so sorry. This is just—the way it has to be. I don’t _want_ to do this to you, but I have to."

 _Bullshit_ , Kamui thinks, but he doesn’t trust himself to speak right now. He just—doesn’t understand. It doesn’t make any sense. How did he go from his behavior in the lift to his behavior at the fountain, his behavior right now? What changed?

Removing his hand, he reaches blindly forward, making contact with Julian’s waistcoat. Wrapping his hand around it, he pulls, and Julian leans in automatically, wrapping an arm around Kamui, with the other across Asra’s shoulders. Julian rests his head over the side of Kamui’s, hairs tickling his nose. It’s warm.

There weren’t very many tears to cry to begin with; he wasn’t _sad_ , just frustrated. Tired. Scared. Stressed out. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been this anxious in his life. He wipes his face dry, knowing he was going to look not just exhausted, but like he’d been crying, in front of everyone at court. Maybe it would buy him pity points. After all, it wasn’t a secret that he was dating one of the accused. Rather, it was a secret that he was dating _both_ of the accused.

"I’m mad at you," Kamui mumbles. He didn’t have to look at anyone for Julian to know those words referred to him.

"I know."

"Why do you have to be this _difficult_?"

Julian lets out a scoffing, cynical laugh. "I ask myself that same question every day," he says.

Letting the silence sink back in, Kamui does his best to filter through his own thoughts. It was hard; a lot of his mind was screaming _close your eyes and go to sleep_. No matter how angry he was at the two, the idea of sleeping curled up, sandwiched between them, was remarkably appealing. Asra was warm and cushiony, his touches gentle and intimate, holding him like he was something precious, something to be treasured. Julian leaned on him like he needed it, needed them to be close, needed to be touching, enveloping him in his arms, steady and safe. They both hold him like they want him, and that was… a lot.

It wasn’t the right time to be getting sentimental, though.

But pushing past those thoughts just brings him back to—Why? Why would Julian turn himself in? It didn’t make sense to him that it was because he genuinely wanted to die, that he would have lied to Kamui in the way he had. What could have caused him to change his line of thinking? To go from clinics and beach houses to _death by execution_?

It occurs to him suddenly, like a light going off in his brain. The dungeons. That was the last place he’d been. He never sent the lift back up—intuition had told him he wouldn’t, but now his brain was telling him it was because Julian _knew_ he’d find something he didn’t want Kamui to see. That was why he was acting like this—to keep Kamui away from it. That had to be it.

There was so much buzzing around in his head that it was easier than it might have otherwise been to pull away from the group hug. He faces Asra first, receiving a warm smile that he can’t muster up the energy to return. Oblivious to the noise in his head, Asra gently brushes some of his bangs aside, asking, "How do you feel?"

"Disastrous," Kamui honestly replies. "You look tired."

"I haven’t had much luck getting to sleep…"

"I thought you were used to sleeping in dirt," Kamui dryly jokes. The magician manages a humored breath in response.

"Not with Ilya around to talk my ear off all night," he says.

"It wasn’t _that_ bad," Julian defensively interjects.

"You spent several hours pacing and venting your millions of anxieties at me. Then you blathered on and on about how you wanted Kamui to hold you, before begging _me_ to hold you because you were lonely, and…"

"Ohhhkay!" Julian interrupts, thoroughly red in the face and unable to meet anyone’s eye, least of all Kamui’s. "Maybe I talk a lot! What do you expect of me? There’s nothing in here but dirt, dirt, and oh, more dirt!"

"You could sleep, for starters," Asra dryly suggests. As Julian makes a grumpy noise, shrugging off the suggestion, Asra lets out an amused breath, turning back to face his apprentice. "Kamui, is Faust with you?"

Before he can answer, the snake in question slithers up the length of Kamui’s torso, coiling loosely around both his and Asra’s necks. She twists around to Asra’s other side, booping her mouth against his chin in a little kiss. This causes him to chuckle, a bit of weariness wearing down his voice.

"Have you been keeping Kamui company?" Asra asks, craning his neck to get a better look at where Faust hovers near his cheek.

" _Sleepy boy. Up all night._ "

"What?" Violet eyes shift from her to Kamui with concern. "Kamui, have you slept at all?"

"No," Kamui responds, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. It was a little dizzying otherwise. "I was thinking too much." Explaining the kind of night—and morning—he’d had, only worsens the worry on Asra’s face. He reaches out a hand to caress the side of Kamui’s face, a thumb swiping over the silky smooth skin of his dark circles.

"Please tell me you’ll get some sleep before the trial starts," Asra says. As tempting as that is, not just to get some rest, but also to do literally whatever Asra wanted when he was speaking so gently and looking at him like that; he didn’t have time for it. Mustering up a small smile, Kamui wraps his fingers around Asra’s hand, gently pulling it away.

"I’m going to have to disappoint you," he says. He doesn’t like the way Asra’s face falls when he says that, so he doesn’t look. Rising languidly to his feet, he heads for the cell door. Before he leaves, however, he casts a look towards Julian over his shoulder. "The trial is this afternoon, which gives me just enough time to go see the palace dungeons for myself."

It was a test; otherwise he wouldn’t have said it. And, sure enough, the words have an immediate effect on Julian, sending him into enough of a panic that he rushes forward, calling out and reaching for Kamui’s wrist while inadvertently slamming Asra against the wall. While Asra scrambles to his feet to alleviate the tightness of his bonds, a hand wraps around Kamui’s wrist, tight enough to hurt. He looks dispassionately down at the black glove squeezing his arm before meeting Julian’s eye, a brow raising. The look is enough to have Julian more aware of himself, loosening his grip to such a degree that a light breeze could separate them.

"I… You can’t," he starts, breaths shallow less from exertion and more from anxiety. The expression on his face is so much more genuinely terrified than Kamui has ever seen it, but he remains steadfast, not allowing Julian to see how it affects him. "Kamui, you _can’t_. I—What I mean is, you can’t get down there, you don’t have the key—"

"This key?" Kamui asks, holding up the well-worn, red key in his free hand. Julian stares at it in shock, before checking over his person for every pocket or other compartment, coming up empty-handed.

"It won’t work for you," Julian says. His tone would imply he was trying to reassure himself, as opposed to arguing over it. "It wouldn’t turn when you tried it." He sneers. "You’re not nearly as bad as me."

"You don’t know that. _I_ don’t even know that," Kamui says, his scowl deepening. In response, Julian’s brows crease, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"You don’t remember the night of the murder," Kamui states. "I’ve forgotten things, too. Like twenty-six years of my life, for instance." The admission renders Julian speechless, eye wide with shock. His grip falters to such a degree that his hand merely falls away from Kamui’s wrist. "Asra’s tried telling me before, but it just hurts my head to try to remember."

"That’s…" Julian manages to croak out, the information clearly a lot for him to process. Once he manages to gather himself, he looks back up at Kamui with an even more alarmed expression than before. "That’s even worse! Kamui, if your headaches are _anything_ like mine, then you can’t go down there! It’ll just hurt you."

"You can’t stop me. I’ll get in one way or another."

" _Please_ ," Julian begs, reaching out with both hands. "You have to stay away from that place. The headaches—Twenty-six years, what if it kills you? I can’t be there to save you, neither of us can. Please, just stay here, I’ll do anything."

"Plead not guilty," Kamui challenges. Just as expected, Julian goes silent, lips flapping uselessly as he struggles to come up with a response. "That’s what I thought. Goodbye, Julian," he says, turning toward the cell door. The sound of rattling chains behind him signals Julian’s renewed attempt to reach him, but despite his rather impressive wingspan, he doesn’t come close.

"You can’t!" Julian calls after him. "Wait! Kamui, no, don’t leave! Come back!"

The doctor’s voice is immediately silenced as Kamui steps over the threshold leading into the coliseum hallway. Not wanting to be seen showing any sort of emotion, he resists the urge to pause and gather his bearings, trudging back out to where the carriage was still waiting for him. He gives Portia clipped responses, and she gets the hint, keeping quiet on their way back to the palace.

After making a beeline to the library, he finds the same books Julian had pulled the day previous, unlocking the entrance with a cold efficiency. Alone, he heads down into the dark depths. The scenery doesn't bother him in the slightest; not in the way it seemed to unnerve Asra, when he had been here yesterday. Actually, there was a part of him that liked it. It was drab, sure, but the lighting felt nice and cobwebs were always an interesting natural art form, in his opinion.

It really wasn’t a relevant thought process to be having, but it was a lot better than the alternatives. A lot better than _the key isn’t going to work_ and _everyone you care about is going to die soon_. No, those were the kinds of thoughts that would have him curling into a bail and wailing, and that couldn’t be who he was right now. He had to be strong.

Arriving at the lift, he glares down at the plaque. Reading the inscription, over and over— _Bloody hands may turn the key_. _Know the weight of your sins_.

_My sins. My… what have I ever done…?_

Thinking hard, he taps a finger to his chin, the rhythm the only thing keeping him alert. What… what had he ever done? Not adultery, he wasn’t dating Julian when he slept with Asra, nor did it apply in reverse. That probably wasn’t what the spell wanted, anyway. _Bloody hands_. He’d never killed anyone before, nor did he blame himself for anyone’s death, as… as Julian must have. The shop didn’t even sell poisonous ingredients, or anything that could, feasibly, be used to kill.

In his past life… three years ago… Could he possibly have done _something_? Would it even matter if he couldn’t remember to begin with?

"Who are you?"

A voice to his right startles him into nearly dropping the key down into the elevator shaft. Clutching it hard enough to leave imprints on his hand, he turns, spotting a familiar figure standing off to his right. Uncomfortably close, actually, leaning forward to peer directly into his eyes.

"Quaestor Valdemar?"

"Ah, you’re the court magician," they say. Something about them—No, everything about them is off-putting. From their sickly pallor to the way they appear to tower over him despite being maybe only a few inches taller, their long, skeletal hands, the way they tilt their neck the way only a bird would, jerky and unnatural. While Kamui could find himself reluctantly appreciating their sense of aesthetics, everything else had him tensed up and scowling. There was nothing trustworthy about them.

Jerking their head to one side, they add, "Do you need inside the dungeons? Here, allow me to give you a tour."

They swipe the key from Kamui’s hand before he has a chance to so much as notice they’ve moved at all, sticking it inside the lock and turning it with a casual ease. The outline of a smile is visible beneath their surgical mask, just as carefree as the rest of them.

"There we are," they say, reaching over to tuck the key into Kamui’s waistband, without looking. "In we go, then," they add, ushering Kamui inside the lift. It’s the most claustrophobic space he’s ever been in, and that’s _without_ Valdemar squeezing inside with him. Perhaps it was a stroke of luck that they were both so thin.

Valdemar hums the entire time that the lift descends. Kamui recognizes it as a children’s folk song, playing over the lyrics in his head just to stay focused, to ignore the oppressive heat and anxiety generated by sharing such a tight space with someone such as them.

After the lift reaches the bottom, Valdemar steps out, not even waiting for Kamui to catch up before walking off. Hurrying to match their enthusiastic pace, he keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to interact, but trying his best to look around outside their notice. It felt like every time they opened their mouth, there was a chance for something insidious to crawl out. He wasn’t even completely sure he was safe with them.

Maybe that was rude to assume, but he couldn’t escape the feeling. And his intuition was usually right.

Following along, they reach a small room with hanging racks of coats, aprons, and beaked masks. Valdemar instructs him to get suited up. He could only assume that meant the air they were about to be breathing was filthy somehow. Reaching for one of the beaked masks along the walls, he pauses before letting his fingers graze over its surface. It fills him with a sense of nostalgia; he remembers the mask Julian used to wear, that he must have kept for years until discarding it the night they’d encountered each other on South End.

But it also reminds him of something… else. Something that feels like it should come naturally to him, that sat right on the tip of his tongue. Without thinking of the consequences, he focuses on that feeling, willing it to come to light.

"Hmm? Do you require assistance with the mask?" Valdemar says, suddenly right next to him and peering up at him with a hawk-like gaze. It startles him out of his thoughts, the feeling of familiarity dissipating, but not completely; it lingers in the background, nagging at him. Before he has a chance to say anything at all, they select a mask at random to fit it over his head, squashing his hair in a way not entirely pleasant.

"Hmm, you’re awfully bare, aren’t you? Here." They grab a nearby coat, forcing him into it. Weirdly enough, it fits perfectly. The white and pale gold fabric hangs down to his ankles, covering him like a blanket. "Yes, just don’t touch anything, and your flesh should be fine."

That comment has the hair on the back of his neck prickling. As they turn to step past a curtain hanging on the other side of the room, Kamui quickly locates a pair of leather gloves, around the same length as Julian’s, and pulls them on. Better safe than sorry; Valdemar didn’t seem to care too much, entirely too eager to move along.

He follows after them, finding them stood in the center of a large room, the ceiling reaching at least two stories high. All around he sees carts full of medical tools on trays, wooden tables with leather restraints, wheelbarrows, and, for whatever reason, a raised, circular platform with a long table in the center of it. Looking with morbid curiosity at everything around him, he can barely think to say anything before Valdemar has started talking again.

"I see you’ve noticed our observation table," they say, tilting their head at an odd angle to watch Kamui from afar. Curious, he walks up the steps, looking over the table in question. It was covered in stains, nearly blending into the wood. The urge to smell it rises, but he couldn’t do that with the mask on. "Yes, we put on many a show here. Very enlightening."

He speaks up for what he realizes is the first time since encountering them outside the lift. "What kind of shows?"

They don’t respond right away, causing him to turn to get a look at their expression. It’s then that he notices they’ve tucked their mask under their chin, allowing him to see the line of their thin lips, stretching practically the full width of their face. "Why, medical examinations, of course!" they cheerfully announce. "It was ever so interesting to see the ways a victim’s body would react to various stimulus. Did you know the red plague could expand a human being’s liver and alter it in hue? Of course, the glowing red always faded a bit after death."

"You did surgeries here?"

"Oh, nothing quite of that nature. It was merely observational." Their eyes fall shut, steepling their fingers in front of their chest. "Although, the doctors always did complain that the bodies wiggled too much." A morbidly gleeful expression overtakes their features as their eyes snap open once more. "Of course, that’s why we had the restraints installed!"

Kamui quickly draws his hand away from the observation table, the color draining from his face. "They were… awake?"

"Well, yes. They were as good as dead, anyway. No reason to waste valuable resources."

The way they say that makes Kamui a little unsure as to what they considered ‘resources’ in that situation. He tries not to think about it. "Julian was—I mean, Doctor Devorak was here for this?"

"His work was more observational. Always off doodling in the corner," Valdemar says, like he was a child playing with crayons, and not a doctor observing a live, human dissection for studying purposes. The thought that their subjects were _aware_ throughout the process has him suppressing a shudder.

 _No wonder he has nightmares_ … _Oh, Julian._ A lot of things were starting to make sense. Their breakup, Julian leaving in the middle of the night, turning himself in for a crime he _knows_ he didn’t commit.

Suddenly his behavior back at the coliseum has him feeling guilty; he shouldn’t have yelled like that. Shouldn’t have been so cold. That wasn’t the right way to handle something like this at all, he just—he couldn’t have _known_.

"Are you quite done?" Valdemar asks, drawing Kamui out of his thoughts. He turns to them with a bit of a glare, likely not at all visible behind the mask’s lenses. "I realize it can be quite exhilarating to think about, but I do have things to do today. You understand, yes? With the trial coming up and all."

Resisting the urge to make an annoyed noise, Kamui glances around the room, pondering. Was this it? If Valdemar had never told him, he wouldn’t have even known about the surgeries—or perhaps he should call them _autopsies_. Either way, there had to be more to it than that.

"Where did Doctor Devorak spend most of his time?" Kamui asks.

"I believe it’s his office you want," Valdemar responds. They gesture to a door on the far wall, blocked from the outside with a wooden bar. The sight unsettles him, makes him wonder how often that bar was used while he was in there, against his will. Hopefully not often.

Without another word, Kamui steps over to it, praying _he_ doesn’t get locked in afterwards. Lifting the bar up and away, he pushes open the door, stepping inside.

Instantly a sense of comfort washes over him. Inside the meager room—undoubtedly a former jail cell—there was a desk, cot, and bookshelf. Everything was cluttered with books and parchment in a way he was used to seeing on Julian’s old desk up in the library, with the blankets on the cot still a bit tousled. It felt like a cozy little alcove away from the stress and horror of the area outside of it. A place to study and take naps in relative peace and quiet. It was easy to imagine Julian in such a place, writing away at the desk, head leaned against one hand, hair an endearing mess of tangles.

Pulling his mask free, he steps farther inside the room. There was an inkwell spilled over some of the pages on the desk. He attempts to draw it out to get a better look at whatever’s written underneath, but his magic is suddenly too heavy, resisting his attempts to tug the ink free. In the end he’s forced to give up, the strain on his body too much for something that obviously didn’t matter all that much. What mattered was whatever Julian had seen, and an ink-stained page wasn’t it.

Searching through the desk’s contents, he eventually comes across a familiar tome. The find has him frowning, puzzled. Why would there be a book on magic here? Asra didn’t… know about this place, did he?

No. There was no reason for him to have been down here, and, anyway… human dissections, that was… He couldn’t claim to be the expert on Asra, but he just seemed far too soft to be able to handle that. There was nothing about him that seemed that tortured, either.

It must have been a loan… he lifts the book up from its stack, flipping through the pages. The text was something he recognized. There was a copy of this somewhere in Asra’s collection, which he’d read cover to cover already. He had studied it, referenced it. It didn’t seem like there should be anything a medical doctor would want from it, but, then again. The plague was seemingly incurable. At some point, they must have all just been throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks, right?

It doesn’t take much flipping before something starts to jump out at him. All over the pages were black ink scribbles, some of it entirely indecipherable, while others were messy illustrations. The hand writing is instantly recognizable to him as being Julian’s. Although, this really takes the cake on how utterly chaotic his script could get.

Pulling out the desk chair, he takes a seat, angling the book just so to get as much light through the barred window as he could. Throughout the mess of scribbles, he could make out a few different things, clearly written while delirious. In particular, several scrawlings about dreams and a man in the shape of a raven pique his interest. He wasn’t so sure any of those had been dreams—but that was a question for Asra, later on. Rather, he was pretty sure Julian was referring to—

A drawing shows up on the next page he turns to, in harsh, dark lines, some drawn in hard enough to tear the page. It was the same as the figure on The Hanged Man; just like the card he’d drawn at what he could only assume was Julian’s intended seat at the ritual. That confirmed it, then—The Hanged Man was his patron. Further than that, even, he had been meeting with him inside the arcana realm, without realizing it, likely without even remembering it had occurred. And all of that happened when he was—

On the brink of death.

_Oh, Julian, you fucking idiot._

He pulls the mask back on, contemplating tucking the book inside his dress to sneak it out, but quickly deciding it wouldn’t work and carrying it more visibly, instead. Exiting the office, he glances around, wondering if Valdemar was still hanging around somewhere.

The sound of skittering draws his attention over to the far side of the room, where a well is installed halfway inside the wall. It's dripping with some kind of liquid—impossible to tell, with the red lenses on his mask. He watches as Valdemar lifts something dark and oddly shaped, before tossing it inside the well. The surface shifts, quickly covering and drowning the object within its depths. It’s then that Kamui realizes what they are.

Several thoughts cross his mind at once, flooding his mind with noise. With the noise comes an instinctual sort of terror; not just anxiety, but bone-chilling _dread_. Eventually his thoughts start to filter out, replaced with a high pitched ringing and the skittering of bugs.

"Oh? Are you done?" The sound of Valdemar’s voice drags him from the noise with a sort of precipitancy. They step back over to Kamui, their heels clacking louder than seemingly possible against the stone floor.

Meanwhile, Kamui remains frozen to the spot, white knuckling the tome in his possession. His eyes fixate on the beetles crawling around the floor by the well, some skittering up its sides as if to crawl back inside. All of them were far, far away, with no knowledge of his presence, yet it felt like they could swarm him within seconds. Like he would take a single step, and one would crawl up his leg too quickly to slap it away. Sink their teeth into his flesh. How long after that would it take for him to get sick? Hours? Minutes? _Seconds?_

"Is something the matter?" Valdemar asks. The doctor appears before him suddenly, nearly causing him to jump back a step. An unsteady breath escapes him.

"I—"

"I don’t actually care. Are you ready to go now?"

Resisting the urge to look back at the well, he nods mutely. Their mouth spreads into a wide grin, which Kamui isn’t sure the meaning of, but he is sure that he doesn’t want to find out, quickly stepping past them towards the exit.

 

 

 

 

By the time he makes it back to the coliseum, he’s no time to speak to the accused again before being ushered up into the Countess’ box alongside Nadia herself. This time, he’s got his bag with him, the tome tucked neatly inside, waiting. There’s a cold, but determined look in his eyes as he watches everyone around the ring getting settled; the courtiers are gathered together inside the witness box, minus Vlastomil, who took the judge’s seat instead. The sight has him raising a brow at Nadia, who returns with a knowing look.

Behind the courtiers, he could see the vivid blue and harsh, dark black of Asra and Julian, stood together apart from the others in what he hoped was solidarity, and not because they were chained together, or something. It was hard to tell from such a distance. Even still, he finds himself staring, his harsh expression softening into something almost sad the longer he looked down at them. There was a part of him that was desperate for his gaze to reach one of them. For silver or violet eyes to be looking back at him, to notice him. But that never happens.

Once court begins proper, Kamui finds his nerves skyrocketing, elevating his blood pressure the more he had to hear Vlastomil insist upon putting Julian to death without question. Even Nadia’s reprimands felt like they were aimed at him, somehow. He hadn’t done anything— _except that he had_. Just not recently.

"Investigator! Make your opening statement," Vlastomil calls. It takes all of Kamui's willpower not to jolt at the sound, realizing he’d been called upon _already_. But of course he had—he read about this, he declared himself their defense, he knew this, he was ready.

He raises to his feet, keeping his shoulders back and head held high, the absolute definition of poise as he takes the questioner’s stand. At least one person in the audience wolf whistles the instant he comes into view, nearly throwing him off balance. Clearing his throat, he shifts his gaze between the judge and the people of Vesuvia, making random eye contact as he makes his opening statement.

Despite his intense anxiety at the amount of eyes looking back at him, his voice doesn’t waver as he speaks. "I’m here today to prove to you all that the accused are both completely innocent," he declares, his voice carrying surprisingly easily throughout the wide coliseum. "Doctor Devorak did _not_ murder the Count, and I’ll prove it to you."

He couldn’t, he couldn’t do that at all, but he had to remain steadfast. A chorus of gasps and whispers rumble throughout the crowd at his words, requiring the judge to demand order before they could continue. There’s an exasperated sigh coming out of Kamui’s mouth that’s almost immediately mirrored by Nadia. No doubt they were both thinking the same thing; Vlastomil had the commanding power of a kitten.

Taking a deep breath through his nose, his looks down over the witness box, going over his options. The easiest thing he could possibly do to win would be to prove Julian hadn’t the opportunity to reach Lucio’s bed chambers before the fire. The only one who could possibly prove that, without a shadow of a doubt… 

Once the crowd quiets down enough for his voice to carry, he declares, "I call Quaestor Valdemar to the stand."

Staring right down into the witness box, he can see the way Julian pales at his words. There’s an amused, almost whimsical look in the Quaestor’s eyes as they step up to the stand, steepling their fingers and taking a pleasant, carefree breath of air. "What a fascinating custom. Very well, ask your questions," they say, tilting their head to one side, beady eyes boring into Kamui’s.

"State your name and occupation," Kamui recites.

"What a redundant question!" Valdemar says, their eyes gleaming. "You already know both of these details, do you not?"

Kamui sighs, pressing his lips tightly together to keep from making his annoyance too audible. "Very well. Inform the court of your relationship with Doctor Devorak."

"We worked together down in the dungeons, studying the plague. Too bad there isn’t one to study, anymore. Ah, how wonderful it would be if there were another plague…"

"Please focus, Quaestor," Kamui says, keeping his expression as impassive as possible. "Tell me, on the night the Count died, was Doctor Devorak down in the dungeons?"

"Ah, yes. I locked him in his office myself. He was quite sick, you see. What a shame that he survived. I was looking forward to dissecting him," they report, eyes filled with glee, the imprint of a smile visible along the fabric of their mask. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare the dissection chamber. There won’t be much time for it after the hanging."

"Quaestor—" Kamui starts, to no avail. Valdemar has already turned tail and left, their coat swishing behind them as they head for the exit. From behind him, Nadia stands, calling after them, but she goes just as ignored. Before long, Valdemar is completely out of sight.

After the Countess sits back down, Kamui spares her a glance, using the moment to mentally prepare himself for what he was supposed to do next. Declaring the inconsistency of Julian’s whereabouts would make a good first step, but in the situation that he couldn’t prove it had overlapped with the murder…

Before he can get a chance to so much as open his mouth, Julian storms into the witness stand, throwing out his arms with a flourish, his cape whipping into a nearby guard. "I want to make a statement!" he yells, much to the judge’s distress.

As Vlastomil starts up complaining about the interruption, Kamui suppresses a sigh, waving one of his hands in a way he’d seen Nadia do plenty of times to dismiss people or shut them up. "Praetor, he’s perfectly within his rights to defend himself," Kamui says, despite the fact that this put a wrench in his plans and, frankly, was moments away from sending him into cardiac arrest. He should have expected Julian to do something like this. Why didn’t he think about this possibility before now?

The words that come out of Julian’s mouth next are nothing short of completely expected. "I murdered the Count!" he declares. "I confessed! I’m guilty! I killed the Count, and no one else! Why are we still arguing about this?"

"I do wonder that myself, Doctor," Kamui drawls. "You were locked away at the time of the murder; much too far away to set fire to the Count or his bed chambers. How do you explain that?"

"Consul Valerius has already reported seeing me flee the scene of the crime right after the murder. The truth is, I could have let myself out anytime. I just picked the lock," Julian says, grinning victoriously up at Kamui. He opens his mouth to say something else, only to be immediately interrupted.

"You picked the lock on a door with a wooden bar outside of it? Let me guess, you squeezed your arm through the barred window that could hardly fit a bird to pull it?"

"I—" Julian stammers, face turning ashen as he realizes how Kamui could have known that. "Did I say pick the lock? Actually, what happened was, someone showed up to let me back out before the murder. It’s just so easy to forget things with the _rush_ of adrenaline that comes with—"

"And who was this person, exactly?" Kamui questions.

Julian grits his teeth, his arrogant grin starting to waver. "That, uh."

"What importance does this have?" Comes the irritated voice of Consul Valerius, storming toward the stand, glass of wine in hand. "He did it. Who cares who let him out? He. Confessed. Case closed."

"It’s hardly a closed case!" Kamui insists, unwilling to bow to Valerius’ flimsy objections. "Unless you can prove the person who let him out exists—"

"Let me say this very slowly, so you don’t misunderstand," Valerius interrupts, a cold glare being sent Kamui’s way. "He. Was. _Seen_. At. The. Scene. Of. The. Crime. By multiple people, mind you. If no one let him out, then how do you explain that?"

"Exactly!" Julian agrees, aiming a triumphant grin towards the questioner’s stand.

"I don’t suppose you _saw_ him setting the fire, did you, Consul?" Kamui asks.

"What does it matter?" Valerius retorts, swirling his wine. "Need I remind everyone that he confessed to the crime?"

"Need I remind _you_ that he wasn’t the only person who confessed to setting the fire? By your logic, anyone could have done it, so long as they claim to have." Leaning forward on the edge of the box, he aims a dark look in Valerius’ direction as he adds, "And I’d _love_ to see you explain how Asra could have been involved, if no one even saw him at the scene of the crime, much less saw him set any fires. But, no, if he confessed, then that solves everything, doesn’t it, Consul?"

With a disdainful curl of his lip, Valerius scoffs, exiting the witness stand without a word. As irritating as it was to watch, Kamui would consider it a victory; especially when the look on Julian’s face, however momentary, declared it a loss for his side of things.

As soon as the Consul takes his leave, the crowd starts acting up, erupting in equal parts cheering and mocking jeers aimed at multiple people involved. After Vlastomil finishes struggling to get the crowd to calm down, Kamui wastes no time in continuing.

"Doctor Devorak," he starts, garnering Julian’s unwavering attention immediately. "If you murdered the Count as you so claim, then tell me. How did you do it?"

With the utmost of confidence, Julian grins up at him. "On that fateful night, I stormed into the Count’s room to confront him for everything he’d done," he explains, pantomiming the actions of his story. "I was carrying a torch with me, to light my way through the dungeons. When the Count said he’d see my hometown burn, I threw the torch at him and watched _him_ burn."

"Hold it!"

A series of gasps ring out around the coliseum as Nadia steps forward. Staring up at her with wide eyes, Kamui takes a deep breath and holds it, at once terrified and hopeful for her interruption.

"What is the meaning of this?" Vlastomil calls out, just to be immediately silenced by the Countess’ piercing stare.

"That was no ordinary fire," she says. "It burned only the body, and nothing else. It didn’t even singe the bedsheets; I have multiple servants who can corroborate this claim. Not only that, but there was no torch found at the scene of the crime. The fire that was set was magical in nature."

This new information settles over Kamui like a warm blanket, allowing him to exhale his held breath. It isn’t until his brain fully processes the information, however, that the comfort is ripped away, replaced by a cold dread.

 _Magical in nature_. Oh, no. No, no, no, he wouldn’t—he wouldn’t roll with that just to throw the trial, would he?

 _No_ , he realizes, _but someone else would_.

As the clamor of voices in the crowds clears once more, Julian tries, yet again, to insist on his confession. But Kamui won’t allow it, not with the information Nadia’s just given him.

Taking a deep, steadying breath to calm his nerves, he continues. "Tell me one thing, Doctor," Kamui says, forcing his voice out as loudly as he can without outright shouting, just to be heard over Julian’s frustrated words. "Can you demonstrate a fire spell for the court?"

Julian’s eyes widen. "I… Well, on such short notice, I couldn't possibly. I need supplies, and, uh…"

"Doctor Devorak, I don't know if you know this, but I am a magician myself, and I can tell you that summoning a flame is as simple as breathing," Kamui says. A bit exaggerated, but it had its intimidating factors, making Julian increasingly nervous beneath his cocky grin. For added effect, Kamui raises a hand, snapping his fingers and producing a small flame. The sound causes Julian to flinch. "This is a beginner’s spell, doctor. If you set the fire, as you claim to have, then surely you can do this much?"

As Julian continues flapping his lips in silence, Kamui lets the flame dissipate, maintaining eye contact and casually leaning on the edge of the questioner's box as he watches the doctor flounder. After the second—or perhaps third—time that Julian’s managed a cocky grin, only to falter as he realizes he has nothing good to say, one of the courtiers calls out from the witness’ box.

"Who cares if he set the fire or not?!" Pontifex Vulgora calls out, their voice nearly deafening despite being on the opposite side of the coliseum. "He committed the crime, and he used his little magician here to do it! That’s no different than a murder weapon, is it?!"

For emphasis, they clap Asra hard on the back, sending him stumbling forward several steps. Once he’s regained his footing, he levels them with a cold glare over his shoulder.

"No!" Julian cries out, aiming a sharp glare in Vulgora’s direction. "I did this alone! I set the fire, I killed the Count! He had nothing to do with it! How many times do I have to say that I confess?!"

Right as Vlastomil starts demanding order, Kamui speaks up, overriding the pathetic sound of the Praetor’s wavering voice. "I call Asra to the stand!" he shouts, garnering the attention of everyone in the coliseum. It more effectively stamps down on the budding shouting match than anything Vlastomil could have ever hoped to achieve.

At first, Julian refuses to be removed; it isn’t until Asra is right in his personal space, fixing him with an unamused look, a bronzed hand pushing flat against his chest that he relents, skulking back to the witness’ box. The harsh look on Asra’s face vanishes the instant he faces forward, turning neutral instead. "I’m here," he says. "What are your questions?"

"For starters; how do you plead?" Kamui asks.

"Not guilty," Asra swiftly and easily responds. The words send both a sizable portion of the crowd, and Pontifex Vulgora, into a bit of a tizzy, requiring the Praetor to attempt to calm them down.

"What?!" Vulgora yells, completely ignoring the judge’s attempts to silence them. "You confessed!"

"Hmm, as did Doctor Devorak, and yet he’s still here, isn’t he," Asra says, a smug grin on his face.

"The fact of the matter is," Kamui says, "Everyone in this room could confess to the crime until we’re all blue in the face, but I’m not giving in until we get to the truth." With a steely determination, he turns back to Asra, who meets his gaze with a neutral expression. "Asra. Where were you at the time of the murder?"

Asra’s hands twitch from where they hang down beside his hips. It’s the only visible indication that something in the question had bothered him, yet Kamui couldn’t fathom how. "I was at the magic shop," he answers, responding with an easy smile. It doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Frowning, a strange tension falls over Kamui's body, a hand tightening around the edge of the questioner’s box. "At what time did you leave the masquerade?"

"From what I know, it was before the murder," Asra says. Something about his intonation is off. "There was something else I had to attend to, so I rushed back to the shop."

"Enough with these easy questions!" Vulgora interrupts. " _Prove_ you didn’t set the fire!"

"I could," Asra says impassively. "But the fact of the matter is, you’ll never believe a thing I say until you know how magic works yourself."

"Do you have any witnesses to corroborate your story?" Kamui inquires. The look Asra gives him is inscrutable, gaze lingering on his apprentice for several long moments.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out and responding. "No," he says. Kamui frowns.

_Why are you lying?_

"Ha!" Vulgora barks, slamming a closed fist against the edge of the witness’ box. It rattles beneath their gauntleted hand. "There you have it! He set the fire, the doctor put him up to it! They’re both guilty!"

"Behave yourself!" Kamui shouts, with such unexpected force that even Vulgora shoots him a shocked look. The maelstrom of emotions swirling around inside of him were too much to sort through—Asra was lying to him, only making him look more suspicious, more guilty, casting doubt on himself from even _Kamui_ , and he trusted Asra with his life, his heart, his _everything_. Why was he doing this? Was this a part of his plan?

Inhaling with a bit of a grating, gravely sound, he continues. "Explain to the court the last time you saw Count Lucio."

"It was a little after the ritual, at the banquet," Asra says. The audience goes quiet at this, dulled down to curious and suspicious whispering alike.

However, the courtiers have no problem bombarding him with questions. Not a one of them seems to know what ritual he’s talking about, causing him to glance to each of them in surprise.

"You… You don’t remember?" he asks, regarding each courtier individually with a look of trepidation. "It was the entire reason for the banquet. To perform a spell, one that would replace Count Lucio’s dying body with a new one."

The crowd grows tense at Asra’s explanation, a cacophony of anxious whispers clamoring together and nearly silencing the sound of the Praetor asking, "A new body? And just who could have provided him with that?"

"The Devil," Asra responds, without hesitation. The entire coliseum goes silent at his words, like all the life had been sucked out of it. It doesn’t seem to phase him; at least, it doesn’t stop him from continuing, his words ringing louder than ever before. "It was on the first day of the masquerade, three years ago. We were all invited to it—The court, the Countess, Doctor Devorak, and… me. But the ritual failed, and now Lucio is trapped between realms. But he’s not just Lucio anymore; he’s become one with The Devil."

Several members of the crowd turn to each other, whispering. A few voices nearby Kamui are just loud enough to make out; there was a lot of ‘ _The Devil? What Devil?’_ and _‘He’s just making things up!_ ’. A pit forms in Kamui’s stomach as he realizes no one was going to buy into Asra’s story, no matter how truthful it was. He’d seen it with his own two eyes; the remnants of a spell gone awry, the goatlike visage of Lucio’s spectral form, the vision of the ritual itself. But he couldn’t prove any of that, and he was sure at least one of the courtiers would cast doubt on him purely for his relationship with the accused.

The whispers turn to jeering and booing, shouts making it through to express the citizens’ disbelief. The incredibly negative reaction has Asra’s eyes widening, gaze darting anxiously between sections of the crowd. "Why are you booing? It’s the truth!" he tries to say, but his voice is drowned out by the incredible noise from the crowd. The distress miring his features has Kamui wanting to do something to help; whether that involved going over to him and dragging him away from the crowd, holding him until his pounding heart slowed to a normal speed, or actively defending him. Pale hands tighten around the questioner’s stand. What could he do…?

The judge frantically pounds his gavel, struggling to contain the crowd. Eventually, the Countess stands, demanding he call a recess, and Kamui can feel a bit of the tension leave his body at the promise of respite. Turning from her to the witness box, he watches as Asra is lead back over to the rest of them, glancing over his shoulder at where Kamui stands in the questioner’s stand until rejoining the others. At his approach, Julian steps forward to greet him, arms outstretched, landing on the magician’s biceps as he comes close enough. There’s no manner of resistance to Julian’s touch, his lips moving but inaudible as Asra gives a slight nod in response.

When a pair of guards show up to re-cuff the pair, Asra looks, again, over his shoulder, searching for Kamui, who has yet to move despite Nadia urging him to do so. And there he remains, until Asra disappears from view. After that, he turns, grabbing his bag from where he’d left it at his seat, exiting the Countess’ box before Nadia herself even has a chance to.

He makes a beeline to their holding cell, passing through a crowd of civilians along the way. Dozens of eyes land on him in an instant, making his skin crawl, uncomfortably warm as he shoulders past people as politely as possible. A voice among the crowd says something suggestively flirtatious in his direction, and Kamui finds himself wanting to die on the spot. It causes him to realize that a lot of the eyes tracking him through the coliseum hallways were looking less with trepidation and mocking curiosity, and a lot more with _hunger_.

 _Oh god, I should have worn pants_ , he thinks, resisting the urge to hide his face in his hands. Would Julian let him wear his coat? No, that would look too suspicious. This had never happened to him before, and he was finding that he hated it, actually.

Along the way, he almost completely misses the sound of a familiar voice calling out to him. Belatedly, he stops, searching the crowd for the source of the noise. To his luck, he’s found quite easily, the man in question having no shame following to catch up with him. The familiar face of the baker is immensely relieving and pleasant, like a breath of fresh air—a mundane, everyday, completely typical breath of air. He could cry.

They converse for a bit; the baker hand delivers a neatly wrapped cloth package full of fresh, warm pumpkin bread, which also has Kamui kind of wanting to cry. It was just so _nice_. He didn’t realize the baker cared so much—god, and neither he nor Asra even remembered his name. That would have to be remedied soon.

"You should know, the crowd seems quite fond of you," the baker says, turning Kamui’s face a pale shade of pink in an instant.

"Oh, you know, I hadn’t noticed," Kamui sarcastically quips. His remark has the baker chortling.

"You’re doing a good job out there. And don’t worry, I’ll be sure to let your admirers know you’re taken." The knowing wink that follows that statement has Kamui turning an even deeper shade of red.

"Y-You know us quite well, huh," Kamui nervously responds. How did he even know? …Was his crush on Asra obvious, even when it hadn’t been to him? Or… Or was it the other way around? How, exactly, did the magician look at him when he wasn’t paying attention?

After a friendly clap on the shoulder, the baker lets him go, giving his blessings on Kamui’s relationship. It’s highly embarrassing, and he ducks his head as he dismisses himself. On his way through the hallways closer to the cells, which were devoid of civilians, he wonders if such an interaction was comparable to that of a father’s blessing. He didn’t remember ever having one, so the comparison put a certain giddiness in his chest that he was going to need, to get through the rest of the trial.

Tucking the bread inside his bag, he reaches the door he was looking for, hearing muted voices coming from inside, too muffled to make out a single word. Either his spell was still in effect, but waning, or they were watching their volume. On his way in, one of the guards stops him.

"You can’t bring that in with you," she says, gesturing to the pack hanging low on Kamui’s back. He was in too good of a mood from speaking to the baker alone to let someone trifle with him, so he levels the guard with a flat look.

"And you’re going to stop me, how? Because, you know, if you lay a single finger on me, I’ll be sure to let the Countess know, in _grave detail_ , all the ways in which you assaulted her favorite magician," Kamui says, cold. The threat has the guard backing down immediately, much to his immense satisfaction.

"…Proceed," she says, just a hint of trepidation in her voice.

He does just that, stepping inside the cell and being greeted with an image he didn’t expect to find. On the far side of the cell, his lovers sat, in the same place as last time, only now, they were turned towards each other, conversing in low tones. Julian’s arms were wrapped loosely around Asra’s shoulders, at enough of a distance that they could remain eye-to-eye. The magician didn’t reciprocate, but nor did he complain about Julian’s closeness.

Idly, Kamui wonders if this could count as his idea to lock them in a closet together. Because it was certainly working the way he wanted it to; if a little less so than the grand romantic fantasy in his head did.

Their eyes turn to him at the sound of the door opening and closing. Instantly they move farther away from each other, leaving Julian’s arms more in the magician’s lap than his shoulders. It didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would to see them reacting that way to his interruption; they were still much closer together than Kamui had expected to see anytime within the next century.

For a moment, all he does is stare. No one says anything, perhaps waiting for him to speak first; but he had no idea what to say. Seeing them again brings a lot of thoughts racing to the forefront of his mind.

 _Why did you lie to me? Why didn’t you tell me about the dungeons, instead of rushing headfirst into danger?_ But those would both open up cans of worms he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with, right now. Everything was stressful enough as it was. Just looking at Asra and thinking _you lied to me_ was enough to put a lump in his throat. He would get angry, _inevitably_ , and then he would cry, and he was tired enough already.

 _Shut your brain off_.

Turning, he places a hand over the remnants of his sigil, adding more magic to return it to its full power. Once that’s done, he steps over to his two lovers, casting another barrier over his clothes before kneeling down in the dirt with them, his knees pressing against either of their legs. Without a word, he pulls his bag around to his front, unclasping the flap. The other two watch closely, curious, as he lifts the cloth package out, careful not to let them see anything else he was carrying. Namely, the tome that Julian was sure to recognize. And Asra as well, most likely.

The scent of freshly baked pumpkin bread wafts through the room before he can even get the cloth untied. Interest dances over Asra’s face at the smell. After it’s unwrapped, Kamui lifts the perfectly moist, soft dessert and carefully snaps it in half. A metallic object falls out of the center, clinking on its way down into the depths of Kamui’s bag, lost to the darkness. He frowns, but ignores it for now, offering either half up to each of his lovers.

As Asra accepts the treat, he asks, "Where did you get this?"

"The baker brought it to me," he says. Taking his hand back, he sticks it inside his bag, searching blindly for whatever it was that had fallen inside. Eventually his palm brushes up against something long and thin, slightly damp from the heat of the bread it was contained within. Wrapping his fingers around it, he pulls it out, revealing a metal file. His brows raise, looking up to see a similar look on Asra’s face. Then, Asra snickers, grinning wide.

"Sneaky," he chuckles. "The baker’s really looking out for me, huh?" Plucking off a bit of the bread, his expression turns more ashamed as he adds, "And I don’t even remember his name…"

"I don’t either. But we’ll sleuth it eventually," Kamui responds with a small smile. He turns to Julian, realizing the man still hasn’t taken the bread from his hand, which had drifted lower out of exhaustion. "Uh, Jules?"

"Uh—" Julian stammers, glancing between the two magicians, who are now both giving him their attention. "You don’t need to do that for me. This seems like something important to you two, I couldn’t possibly intrude on it."

"I’ve already eaten," Kamui retorts, frowning.

"How many times today?" Asra questions, raising a brow over at his apprentice, who huffs.

"I had a very large breakfast, Portia made sure of it, okay?" He holds the chunk of bread up higher, insistent. "They can’t be feeding you anything good in here, assuming they’re feeding you at all. Listen, the only excuse I’ll accept is that you don’t like pumpkin bread."

Returning Julian’s gaze unwaveringly, eventually the doctor gives in, accepting the bread from him. He sniffs the treat experimentally before biting off a piece of it, chewing slowly. Kamui watches him very closely, expectant. Not realizing that the staring was making him a touch uncomfortable; he just wanted to look at him. Maybe get a good look at a pleased expression, a smile. Anything.

But that doesn’t end up happening. There isn’t much of a reaction at all, although Julian does keep eating, so he must not hate it. It prompts Kamui to think back on the banquet table; The Hanged Man had a bitter drink and… a savoury meal, he thinks. So he didn’t like sweets as much as the two magicians did, then.

"Kamui?" comes the sound of Asra’s voice, to Kamui’s left. There’s a certain worried crease to his expression. "Are you okay?"

That’s a question he doesn’t want to answer right now. "What do you mean?" he asks, playing dumb. Ignoring the fact that the question has his skin buzzing with nervous energy.

"There’s a lot going on right now, more than you usually have to deal with. I thought you would be even more stressed than the last time you were here."

 _I am_ , he thinks, but out loud he says, "I just want to spend some time with you. Both of you." _And not think about how mad I am, or how the chance of losing you two is becoming increasingly likely._

The look Asra gives him is clear; he doesn’t believe him, but he’s also not going to say anything about it. It doesn’t stop the concerned looks he keeps shooting Kamui’s way, however. No matter; he’ll just look at Julian instead.

No one seems to know what to say. There’s a lot that Kamui thinks to say, but it all gets dismissed, doled up into categories of _would make me cry_ and _would make me angry_. None of it feels like something he can handle. Instead, he holds the bag in his lap, hands resting beneath where the tome was sitting, eyes shifting between the floor in front of him and Julian.

Eventually, Julian sighs, setting the remainder of his bread on Asra’s lap without a word. "Alright, I can’t take this anymore," he says, placing his hands on either of Kamui’s biceps, lightly squeezing. Apprehension and concern alike are at war on his face. "You're upset with me. You must be, right? Just tell me, please, because if I have to take this silence any longer I’m going to combust."

Eyes round with surprise, Kamui stares back at him, uncertain on how to proceed. He didn’t expect this—Julian had seemed perfectly content, before, to push him away, and now he was trying to pull him back in?

"I’m not mad at you," Kamui says, surprised to find that it’s the truth. There were reasons to still be mad, but… they were grossly outweighed by his desire to wrap Julian up in his arms and tell him he’s wanted, desired, that he’s doing good, that he’s not a villain. That Kamui wants him, and would do anything to help him, that he didn’t need to _kill himself_ just to find his answers.

 _I could do it for you_ , Kamui thinks. _Why won’t you let me?_

"You’re… you’re not? And after what happened this morning…? You must not hold grudges for very long."

"Not in my experience," Asra pipes up, turning to meet Kamui’s eye. "Kamui, what did you find in the dungeons?"

The question has Julian tensing, glancing anxiously from one magician to the other. But Kamui remains silent. Lifting the bread off Asra’s lap and depositing it back in Julian’s. Keeping his eyes down, resisting the urge to stroke his hair, to reveal his nerves.

But it’s difficult to just sit still. Sighing, he raises his head, meeting Asra’s gaze head on. There was a sort of determination amidst the worry in Asra’s expression that dashes all hopes of appealing to him for mercy. _Don’t make me talk about this. Take pity and step back, like you always do_.

Violet eyes shift away, breaking contact. They land on the bag in Kamui’s lap, sending a spike of anxiety through him. It was as though Asra knew exactly what was in it, could see right through him to the truth.

Or maybe he couldn’t. But it sure felt like he could, and without even needing to hear a single word from him about it, Kamui confesses. "I know everything," he says, watching all the color drain from Julian’s face. "Valdemar followed me in. They told me about the—" He pauses, gulping. "About the… types of things that went on down there. I went into your office, and I… I know what you’re trying to do, Julian."

"You… do?" Julian anxiously asks. Not wanting to see the look on his face, Kamui keeps his head down.

"Julian, do you remember the dining hall? There was a place setting for you, you looked right at it." He glances up just to see Julian nod, before looking back down. Reaching under the sash of his dress, he pulls out Asra’s card deck, popping open the clasp. The Hanged Man falls into his open palm. Curiously, it was reversed. "This was the card at your seat. Does it look familiar to you?"

There’s a pause, during which Kamui peers up through his eyelids, noticing Julian’s throat bobbing nervously.

"Well, yes. I _was_ there, my dear," Julian says.

"You know this from somewhere else," Kamui persists. Scarlet eyes remain fixed on the doctor’s face, observing every minute detail; as good an actor as he fancied himself, it was easy to see the nerves hiding just beneath the surface of his cocky grin.

"Hardly. I’m not some kind of mystic, I don’t do fortune telling—"

"Do you think I can’t prove it?" The harsh tones of his voice shut Julian up immediately, his fingers tensing around his arms. "What do you take me for, Julian? An idiot?"

"No!" Julian immediately exclaims, his mask shattering as he flounders. "You’re—Much more clever than I ever would have imagined."

The compliment takes Kamui by surprise. Whether he wants it to or not, it softens him, reminds him that he doesn't want to be harsh to Julian. Taking a deep breath, and holding it, he replaces the cards before pulling open the flap on his bag, hefting the tome out to rest in his lap. Julian makes some kind of noise at the sight of it, going between being unable to look away from it and eager to look anywhere else.

"A—A magic tome? Surely you don’t think that I—"

"Hey! That’s one of mine," Asra exclaims. He reaches for it, and Kamui easily lifts it to hand it over to him. He watches as the magician rapidly flips through the pages, cringing and grimacing at all the damages. "You wrote all over the pages!" Flinching a bit, Julian leans farther back, away from the magician’s potential wrath. Asra pinches one of the pages between two fingers, using it to gesture to a large tear bisecting half the paper. "What were you doing with this? Using it for target practice?"

"Uh. Well, that’s, you see. Uh, I work better with… by taking notes, and…"

"So use a separate journal!"

"In my defense, I was mildly delirious when I wrote a lot of that," Julian says. The excuse doesn’t work at all to wipe the annoyed glare off Asra’s face. With lidded eyes, he turns back to the tome, flipping more carefully as the harsh lines of his expression smooth out, replaced with a look of focus followed by confusion, concern, and finally, exasperation.

"Ilya…" Asra starts, letting the word hang in the air. The tone he uses and the look on his face say it all. With a sigh, he audibly snaps the book shut, turning a glare on Julian. "You didn’t think to ask the two magicians in your life if _maybe_ there was a ritual for this already?"

Julian scowls. "How am I supposed to know what kind of—Wait, is there? A ritual?"

"Yes!" Asra exclaims, the sound causing Julian to flinch. Placing the tome back in Kamui’s lap, he continues, "And if you had come to us last night with this instead, we could be well on our way to completing it by now."

"And you would have helped me? Just like that?" There’s a certain bite to his voice matching the sneer on his face. Asra’s brows furrow in response, confused.

"Why wouldn’t I?"

"Why would you?" Julian shoots back. "Because _Kamui_ wants you to?"

"What?" Asra asks, flabbergasted. "Did you miss the part where I turned myself in for you?"

"Did you? Or did you do it because you didn’t want your _lover_ crying over my dead body?"

"I did it because I don’t want you to _die_ , Ilya! Is that so hard to believe?"

"What difference does it make?" Julian exclaims, throwing his arms out to the side and nearly slamming his knuckles against the stone wall. "I could have died three years ago, right after the masquerade. Would you have even known, or cared? Did you even know where I went, or were you too busy forgetting I even existed to spare me a second thought?"

"I—I didn’t forget," Asra insists, although it comes out sounding weak and insincere. The hurt that flickers across Julian’s face says he noticed it, too. He lets out a bitter laugh.

"Of course not. I’m sure you were thinking of me while you were off making eyes at _him_." The sheer jealousy in his voice has Kamui’s brows raising, shrinking back a bit as he glances between the two.

"That's not what this is about," Asra says, cheeks coloring.

"Isn’t it?" Julian challenges. "If not for him, what reason would you have to be here? Would you even show up for my trial? Would you even _know_ about it, or would you be off doing—Whatever it is you do all the time? Face it, you _never_ cared about me, and you don’t care right now, either. Just more pretty little lies from the silvery-tongued magician—"

"Shut up!" Kamui exclaims. The sound has both Asra and Julian flinching, nearly hard enough for Julian to hit his head on the wall. Two sets of eyes fall on him, wide with shock at his outburst. His hands tighten into fists, painted-red nails digging into his palms. _Control yourself. Calm down._ Taking a deep breath, he holds it, counting to five before releasing it.

"I’m not going to sit here and listen to this," he continues, in a much more level, albeit heated tone. "If you have something to say to each other, you can do it without yelling, _and_ you can do it later. There are more important things to talk about right now."

The two glance at each other with mixed looks of shame and regret. Julian's throat bobs, his lips parting as if to say something before deciding better of it, and chewing his lower lip instead. A silver eye falls on the bread in his lap, uncertain.

Heart pounding with adrenaline, Kamui taps a finger against the tome in his lap, ignoring the way his hands tremble. He spares only a minute, giving the two the opportunity to apologize to one another, but neither of them ever speak up, so he resigns himself to getting them back on topic. "Asra, the ritual," he prompts. It takes several seconds before the magician in question catches on to _which_ ritual he was referring to.

"Right. Sorry," Asra says, staring down at the tome for lack of anything better to focus on. "For magicians like you or I, we can cross into the Arcana realm whenever we want. But for non-magicians, it requires a lot more effort. I’d need time to gather the proper supplies, to prepare the ritual… it would take a few days, maybe." A silver eye turns in his direction, surprised.

"The masquerade is more-than-likely going to start tomorrow night," Kamui says.

"And the ritual in the dining hall could easily happen on the first night," Asra realizes. Worry flits across his features as he raises his head to meet Kamui's gaze. "I can… I can expedite the ritual. But The Hanged Man is a bit… hard to find. I’ve never had any luck contacting him before. It might work better with a stronger connection to him, but I can’t guarantee results."

"Well, it’s better than _dying_ ," Kamui says, eyes narrowing as he looks sidelong at Julian. Shame flits across the doctor's face before he turns away, picking at the bread in his lap.

"We just have to make it through the trial. Don’t worry, Kamui, I have a plan."

"Does it involve the two of you working together?" Kamui asks. Despite his words being directed at Asra, his gaze remains on Julian, slowly softening as guilt takes root in his chest. Why did he keep doing this? Was being so harsh to him really necessary? What did it solve? "Because, if so…" He trails off, not needing to finish his sentence for the meaning to get across.

Silence seeps in, a look of regret weighing down Asra’s expression as he looks to Julian. Eventually, Asra says, "Ilya, I’m sorry." He doesn’t get a chance to elaborate before Julian’s head whips around, eye wide with surprise.

"You’re… sorry?"

"Yes?" Asra says, bemused. He spares a brief glance to Kamui before continuing. "You really think I wouldn’t care if you died? I’m not _that_ heartless."

Julian’s lips flap uselessly, making little more than aborted sounds. "I—I don't think you're heartless," he eventually says. "It's just hard for me to..."

He trails off, but it's easy to piece together the rest of it, with any number of things; all of it likely true, at least in Julian's mind. Silence overtakes the room for a few moments as their words sink in.

"Ilya, I need you to work with me on this," Asra says. "All you have to do is put on a little bit of an… improvisational performance."

"Right," Julian says, his voice lacking its usual energy. He clears his throat and tries again, with a cocky smile to go with it this time, " _Right_. I can do that. Just, direct me to my stage and I'll have the crowd hanging off my every word."

There's a knock at the cell door, Portia’s voice calling out for Kamui to return to the Countess’ box before the recess ends in the next five minutes. Knowing his voice wouldn’t carry outside the room with his rune in effect, he turns back to the others.

"I have to go," he says. In a bit of a haste, he puts his things away, sitting up on his knees to give both his partners a kiss. Julian looks surprised to be included, smokey eye wide as Kamui pulls away. One of his hands raises up to touch his lips as Kamui gets to his feet, heading for the door. "Eat your bread, okay? And please try to get along. I know you can, if you just try."

 

 

 

 

After returning to the Countess’ box, Nadia takes one look at him before turning to a nearby guard, gesturing them closer and whispering something in their ear. Whatever it is goes entirely over his head, but the guard exits right after. If he were feeling more alert, he might ask for an explanation. Just out of friendly curiosity. As it was, he couldn’t care less, so long as it didn’t mean anyone was about to die, or something.

After the trial starts up again, Vlastomil is only given a moment to speak before he’s interrupted, with Asra and Julian approaching the witness stand to make an announcement. Julian grabs the coliseum’s attention with his booming voice and flair for theatrics, while Asra is the one who declares,

"We call for a trial by combat!"

There’s hardly any time for anyone in the court to react before the crowd is in an uproar of support for the idea. Both Kamui and Nadia’s brows raise, and he finds himself on the edge of his seat. This was the plan? How was this ever going to work with so many eyes on them…?

Nadia is on her feet in an instant, overriding Vlastomil’s complaints as she states, "I don’t follow. Are the two of you fighting each other to prove your innocence?"

Asra sends a gentle smile her way. "No. We’re both fighting _him_."

The magician hardly even has to gesture in the direction of the man lumbering into the coliseum for everyone to notice him, anyway. The man’s bulk was nearly enough to take up the entirety of the entrance he came in through, easily much taller than Julian. Kamui wasn’t even sure if he could fit his arms around him. And they were going to…?

No. This was all just an act—No one was going to be hurting anyone. Kamui only hopes it looks convincing.

The audience ignites in excited cheering, chanting a title that Kamui’s unfamiliar with. Turning back to the unknown man, Kamui squints, catching the look of intense discomfort on Muriel’s scruffy face, the way he ducks his head to—Wait, Muriel? How did he know his…

A stone hut flashes to the forefront of his mind, the dark-brown fur of a wolf accompanied by a lumbering man. Roaring _don’t touch that_ , blushing at Asra’s displays of concern for his health. Arms wrapped protectively around the wolf, all-but growling at Julian’s approach. The chopping of wood, the glare that was aimed his way as Kamui realizes _that’s why you don’t like me_.

Outside the shop, muttering distrust. In the market, shambling away from him. _I could be your friend_ , he had said, only to be turned down vehemently, not quite convinced with the blush that spread over Muriel’s cheeks, at his pout, brows furrowed with embarrassment, rather than anger.

_It won’t be long until you fade away, into your own little world together._

_I won’t let you_.

A hand at his shoulder jostles him to awareness. Redirecting his gaze from where Muriel _used_ to be, over to his left, catching Nadia’s concerned gaze. "Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I just… Do you know that man?"

"I believe I do," she responds. "The Scourge of the South. I don’t recall meeting him personally, but I remember my husband having some sort of hold over him. Forcing him to fight and kill in the ring, for his own enjoyment." A shadow falls over her eyes as she speaks, expressing her clear disgust with the entire concept. "He was undefeated, as I recall."

Kamui swallows past a growing lump in his throat. That… That was why he called it a gift. Because everyone knew him as a _killer_. Of course, of course he wouldn’t want anyone to remember that; it didn’t take much to understand, the man was no killer. He was too soft for that.

Oh, why did he have to go finding so many people he wanted to nurture…? Now he just wanted to hold the man, for as far as his arms could reach. Muriel would probably hate that, though, so maybe he could… bring him… gifts? Ugh, no, Muriel hated him. He had Asra anyway.

 _And you have your arms full with Julian already_ , a voice in Kamui’s head reminds him. Right. Focus on the one who was actively trying to get himself killed, first.

Kamui watches as Vlastomil is shoved from the judge’s seat, Vulgora taking his place. The courtiers move from the witness box to their own box, as Asra and Julian are ushered out of sight. He wraps his hand around the magician’s emerald, letting the soft dusting of magic cool his nerves.

A few minutes pass before a familiar guard steps into the Countess’ stand, nervously apologizing for interrupting—although there was nothing to interrupt, with both of them more lost in thought than anything else.

"The magician, Asra, has requested a token from you, sir," the guard says, looking right at Kamui as he does so.

A token…? Kamui’s face warms. Leave it to him to do something so romantic… and sappy.

With his hand already around the magician’s emerald, it seemed like a no-brainer. "I’ll deliver it to him myself," Kamui says, raising from his seat with as much grace as one could muster on so little sleep. The guard straightens out his back in response, a bit intimidated by Kamui’s presence. He was too tired to recognize the exact reason for that. "Lead me to them."

"Right away, sir."

The place the guard brings him to is an enclosed space, full of racks loaded with various weapons, and a wide selection of armors to choose from. It was dusty, looking like it hadn’t been used in years. Probably not since the Count was alive, or so Kamui figures.

In the middle of the room, Kamui finds his lovers donning some gladiatorial costumes, with Asra standing behind Julian and helping him get into one of the leather straps crisscrossing his torso. Kamui watches in amusement as Asra pulls them overly tight, and Julian makes a comically exaggerated groan of pleasure. The sound of Kamui snickering is what grabs their attention.

"Kamui!" Asra starts, surprise flashing in his eyes. With a warm smile, he takes a step away from Julian. "I didn’t expect you would come all this way…"

"And miss _this_? Are you kidding?" Kamui says. His eyes rake appreciatively over Asra and Julian’s forms, taking in their bared chests, the hints of thigh. There was something really special to appreciate with both of them, from the golden chains accentuating Asra’s muscled abdomen to the dusting of red hairs leading down past Julian’s waistband, black straps wrapped tight around his body in a particularly enticing way. They both look a touch ridiculous, but it doesn’t mean Kamui didn’t want to see them in gold chains and black leather straps ever again.

The grin on Asra’s face is devious. "Hmm? See something you like?"

Without hesitation, Kamui steps up closer to the both of them, his hands hovering slightly in front of him at all times. He wanted to touch, but where should he start? With a pleased sigh, he says, "I think I’d rather be the one fighting you two in the ring."

Julian smirks at that. "Oh? Thinking of tearing these clothes off of me, are you? In front of an audience, no less…?"

"I’d rather choke you on your own straps," Kamui says. The color that blooms across Julian’s cheeks is nothing short of delightful. It’s a nice thought, too, apart from the audience. Unless the audience was Asra.

Stepping in closer, Kamui puts a hand on Asra’s chest, petting the bare skin between his pectorals. "In these outfits, I think you could win on audience favor alone," Kamui says salaciously. It causes the magician to chuckle, taking a half step forward to press Kamui tighter against his body, one hand sliding around his hip while the other presses down on his hand, fingers dancing across the backs of his, playful.

"If the audience was _you_ , maybe," he teases. He grazes two fingers along the underside of Kamui’s chin, tilting his head back and leaning in to nip at his bottom lip. It drags a low groan out of Kamui’s throat, and he leans forward, chasing after Asra. His attempts are thwarted by Asra’s thumb pressing into his lower lip. "Later, Kamui."

Kamui huffs. Heat floods his face, as well as a few less innocent parts of him, yet still he takes a step back, saying, "Tease." Afterwards, he reaches for the jewelry hung around his neck, removing it to drape the necklace over Asra’s shoulders, the reversed emerald heart resting right over the gold ring in the center of his chains. He tilts his head down to look at it, before lifting it up to inspect.

Smiling softly, Asra says, "You’ve been wearing this ever since I got back. It… kind of surprised me."

"It’s got some of your magic in it." Warmth spreads through Kamui’s cheeks. "That’s… why I wear it."

Asra’s brows raise, before he averts his eyes, a touch bashful. "You’ve… been wearing it since before our Nopal trip." _Since before we kissed_ , he means. _Before we were anything, again_.

"I told you. I’ve… had a crush on you for years," Kamui reminds him, growing a bit shy himself. Outside his notice, he’s started playing with his hair, combing his fingers through it. Asra’s doing something similar; absently brushing his thumb over the facets of the gem.

"Oh, this is adorable," Julian coos from his spot on the other side of the room. It has Kamui growing even more flustered, with Asra’s head whipping in Julian’s direction, glaring through his embarrassment.

"Shut up, Ilya," he groans. As Julian laughs, he flicks his fingers at the man, sending a burst of multi-colored sparkles aimed directly at his face. While he's distracted by the spell, Kamui darts over, throwing himself at Julian’s middle and wrapping his arms around him. The man makes a soft _oof_ in response, before returning the embrace.

Tilting his head up to look him in the eye, Kamui says, "You didn’t ask for a token."

"That would look pretty suspicious, don’t you think? Besides, I don’t think I have that kind of authority," Julian responds. That hadn't really occurred to him before asking, but what a frustrating point that was. No one had a clue that they so much as knew each other, much less were close enough to ask for  _tokens._ With a dissatisfied hum, Kamui pulls back, pondering. What did he have that…?

A thought occurs to him suddenly, lips forming an ‘O’. Taking a step back, he bends down a bit, reaching for the strap along his thigh. It detaches from his shorts and tights easily, causing the sheer socks to droop a tiny bit. The silk strap is long enough to reach fully around Julian’s neck, clipping behind the emerald, which Kamui positions to rest in the center of his throat. It’s just subtle enough to pass for a choker, as opposed to what it really was.

"There! A token," Kamui declares, feeling pretty pleased with himself. He’s too busy admiring his work to notice the thick blush spreading across Julian’s face, or to recognize how the gesture must have looked to him. "Oh! But, hold on."

He takes a step forward, standing very far within Julian’s personal space. The man freezes, inhaling sharply as Kamui’s fingers brush his throat, pressing over the small, diamond-cut emerald. Letting his eyes fall shut, he channels his magic, thinking of a lot of things—protection, affection, warmth, a tender embrace. Safety and security. Julian shivers as a tremor passes over Kamui's hand, causing him to open his eyes. He looks up at the pink dusting Julian's pallid cheeks.

"That… I felt that," he says, sounding breathless. "What was that?"

"Um… a protection spell. It was supposed to be, anyway, I kind of made it up just now." Pulling his hands back reveals a faint, sparkling glow confined within the emerald’s facets, like a collection of fireflies inside a jar. It lights up the gemstone in a variety of colors other than the initial pale green. Kamui’s eyes are wide as he regards the change in appearance. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Julian’s fingertips brush over the emerald’s surface, before pressing down a bit more firmly. "It feels like… an electric charge," he muses. "It’s warm."

Warm hands slide over Kamui’s waist, Asra’s chin resting on one of his shoulders. "That’s what Kamui’s magic feels like," he explains.

"Really?" Kamui asks. It hadn’t occurred to him that his magic _felt_ any sort of way, at least, not any sort of way that could be consistently defined. Not like Asra’s. If he were more poetic, he could spend hours writing exactly how Asra’s magic felt.

The magician’s eyes are transfixed on the color-changing gemstone. "It looks like that, too," he says. "It’s kind of nostalgic."

"I wasn’t aware magic had a personalized look or feel to it," Julian says. "I was under the impression you just… wiggled your fingers and levitated something from across the room."

Kamui raises a brow, "Finger wiggling? Okay, where did you get that idea?"

"It was purely facetious, of course," Julian dismisses. "So, wait. If someone else had done this instead, would it have turned out different? I know you said you made it up, but, assuming they were to use the exact same thing…"

"They wouldn’t. That’s the thing, Jules. We do things our own way, the way that works best for us. The way that I did it might have done nothing at all if Asra copied it," Kamui explains. "It’s like… taste. The pumpkin bread didn’t really work for you, did it?"

"I ate it," Julian says, a touch defensively, like he thought he was being scolded, or something. Kamui laughs, hands gliding over the man’s hips and tugging him a bit closer.

"You don’t like sweet food, I can tell. I love it, though. Magic is… a little bit like that? If you don’t like sweet things, you don’t include them in your recipes. Depending on how you think and feel, your spells are performed differently. Does that make sense?"

"A… bit, yes," Julian hesitantly agrees. The thoughtful expression on his face implies he isn’t lying, rather, he just needs time to think it through. The effort he’s willing to put in brings a small smile to Kamui’s face.

He wraps his arms around Julian’s back, fitting his head against the curve of his neck, the emerald glittering in his periphery. It leaves him pressed comfortably between Asra at his back and Julian at his front; unlike the night they all shared a bed together, there’s less awkwardness, with Julian draping his arms across both magicians’ shoulders without a second thought.

"You’re both rather huggy, aren’t you?" Julian comments. "Not that I’m complaining! I’m quite comfortable right here. It’s just that I usually expect to have to do more work than this for someone to hold me."

Bemused, Kamui says, "Why would you have to do any work? I like holding you."

"Oh. You do?"

Asra speaks up, "Kamui’s like a koala. You’re going to have to pry him off of you."

"Hey, he said _you’re_ huggy, too," Kamui reminds him. In response, Asra merely shrugs.

"I am," he says. His voice lowers to a seductive degree as he says, "With you, especially."

They part from each other not long afterwards. Kamui leans against a nearby barrel, observing the two as they finish their ensembles. It’s more than a little enchanting to see Asra expertly twirl a pair of knives before handing them, hilt first, over to Julian. They match perfectly with the color scheme of his costume. There’s a certain degree of playfulness to the way they act around each other that has Kamui grinning.

He couldn't be sure what they had talked about since he last saw them. Whether it was an actual resolution or just a truce, he wouldn't know until later. What mattered was that they were getting along.

 

 

 

 

Once Kamui is back in his seat at Nadia’s side, the fight begins. Vulgora introduces the trio to the crowds, who are more pumped than they’ve been all morning. As Asra steps out, a basic wooden staff in hand, carrying himself with confidence and poise, Kamui finds he can’t take his eyes off of him. To his left, Julian stands, posing for the crowd with his twin daggers. It’s hard to decide where Kamui would rather look; perhaps the hardest part of having multiple lovers in the same place.

They make it look good, with Asra and Julian trading taunts with Muriel to get the crowd riled up and interested. Distracted, even, by the lack of contact that goes on with the actual combat. Muriel charges at them too slowly for either of them to fail dodging him, all of Asra’s magics are harmless in the context he uses them in, and Julian spends most of his time appealing to the crowd. It’s easy to say that they’re in love with him in particular, with at least one person wolf whistling at him.

It all left him wondering how exactly they were going to get away with faking a win. There didn’t seem to be any strategy they were employing. They were all dancing around each other, avoiding contact, not wanting to hurt anyone. What were they going to do, tire Muriel out? Pin him until he gives up? Kamui didn’t particularly care, so long as all three of them make it out alive.

Julian’s taunting drives Muriel to seek out a weapon, his forest green eyes landing on a nearby wooden rack, currently devoid of anything contained within it. With his bulk, it was obvious to figure out what he saw in it. Just as obvious to his combatants, as well.

"Run!" Asra exclaims.

The two make a break for the rack at the same time as Muriel. With his impressive height, he makes it long before either of them do, tearing the wood apart to give himself a makeshift weapon. There were crooked nails sticking out of either side of the wood that had Kamui almost as anxious as the two actually in the ring with it. It had him on the edge of his seat, as though he were at all allowed to vault over the side of the box and rush into the ring to save one of them. Or both of them. It was hard to convince himself that this was safe when something like _that_ was being brandished.

Julian dodges to one side, narrowly avoiding a nail to the side of the face. Pretending to be weighed down by his own bulk, Muriel takes his time in lifting the wood back up, giving the doctor plenty of time to put some distance between them.

The wood is aimed in Asra's direction, all of Muriel's movements slow and obvious. With a certain stylish flair, Asra slashes his staff across the ground, turning the sand to water before launching it at the wood in a small tidal wave, encasing it in ice. The spell carries him over the top of it, putting him behind Muriel before the ice shatters, destroying the wood plank in its entirety.

It does absolutely nothing to the nails, however, and one of them catches Asra in the face before he can notice it, splitting open his bottom lip. Thick blood dribbles down his chin, a hand raising to touch it and coming away stained with it. His eyes are wide with surprise as Vulgora excitedly screams, "FIRST BLOOD!!" overhead.

Barely even sitting in his chair anymore, Kamui white-knuckles the edge of the box, not looking away for even a second as he asks Nadia, "What is that? What does that mean?"

"Just words," she responds, reassuring him. "It’s not a penalty."

He nods, barely even feeling himself commit the action. _This was supposed to be fake. No one was supposed to get hurt!_

"Asra!" Julian yells from across the field, eye wide with panic. Lifting his head back up, Asra spares him a glance, just quick enough to make him seem on alert as one should be in the midst of battle.

"I’m fine!" Asra calls back. Ignoring what was likely a very painful wound, he takes a cautious step back, swinging his staff around to his front in a defensive gesture. Violet eyes catch on the man before him, who has yet to move a single muscle. Muriel’s eyes are wide with shock, seeing nothing but the blood dripping down Asra’s chin. The two stare at each other, concern flitting across Asra’s face as his lips part. His words are too quiet to be heard outside the ring.

Confusion spreads through the audience, some shouting for Muriel to move while others excitedly chant for his defeat, or, rather, his brutal execution. Taking advantage of the situation, Julian calls out, "Asra! Now’s our chance!"

"But—" Asra starts, lips flapping silently, at least from Kamui’s perspective.

"Then do something!" Julian shouts back. In response, Asra takes a few steps back, lifting his staff, some sort of spell causing his clothing and hair to flutter. A blast of energy shoots out from the tip of the staff, carefully directing itself to the thick collar around Muriel’s neck. The metal ring attaching the chains to it shatters, and the whole thing falls apart, thudding uselessly to the sand at his feet. It looks absolutely bizarre to see him without it.

It also shocks him out of his trance. A look of pure rage overtakes his features as he remembers his role, clenching a fist and aiming it in Asra’s direction. Despite the obvious threat, he doesn’t try to move, opting instead for a shield spell. At the sight of it, Muriel slams his fist towards it at something resembling full force.

But his fist never makes contact with the shield. Rather, Asra is shoved to the side, landing hard in the sand, with Julian crumpling to the ground not far from him. Blood spills out of a wound in his head, dripping down over the bridge of his nose and dripping on the sand. Asra’s shield shatters manually, dissipating in seconds, as both he and Muriel stare down at the doctor’s motionless body. The entire coliseum goes silent—or so it feels—and nobody moves for several long moments.

The crowd erupts into excited cheering, as Asra crawls frantically towards Julian’s body, calling for him to get back up. Muriel takes a step back, tearing his eyes away from the scene in front of him long enough to notice the blood on his knuckles. While Asra attempts to lift Julian’s body, either to hold him or jostle him awake, the crowd screams for his swift execution.

Without thinking, Kamui jumps to his feet, joining the vocal minority of the crowd in yelling as loud as he knew how for Julian to get back up. There was nothing else he could do. No spell was subtle enough or had enough of a reach. Even Asra, who was right there next to him, couldn’t do anything to rouse him.

But if he didn’t get back up—

"FINISH HIM!" Vulgora shouts, causing Muriel to jolt, startled. Whatever Asra was doing before gets abandoned in favor of keeping Julian’s body held protectively close to him, as he looks up at the crowds around them, anxiety prevalent on his face. His eyes land on Muriel, a silent question of ‘ _What do we do?!’_ being projected in his expression, yet to the man it must look like something else, as he takes a step back, eyes wide with shock.

"Enough!" Nadia calls out. Somehow, her voice and presence is enough to put the entire coliseum on hold, silencing themselves just for her. With a cold glare being leveled both at Vulgora and the more bloodthirsty members of the crowd, she continues, "There will be no killing! We are not simple-minded barbarians who hunger for blood, and frankly, I’m ashamed of all of you. The trial by combat is meant to determine guilt, not cause senseless slaughter. There will be a formal execution tomorrow just as planned."

After that, the trial is called to a close. Kamui watches, numb, as guards show up to take Julian off to see a doctor for his head wound—not realizing it was likely already gone. Asra remains in the sand at Julian’s side, reluctant to let anyone get close, a look of apprehension and something akin to fear on his face as the guards command him to step aside. He doesn’t move immediately, but he has no choice other than to comply eventually.

Without waiting to hear anything from anyone nearby—or perhaps someone had already acknowledged him, and he hadn’t heard a thing—Kamui grabs his bag and flees from the Countess’ box. Searches for wherever Asra must have gone. He spots the magician at the exits, attempting a clean escape. Their eyes meet for barely a moment before they’re descended on by the crowd. The claustrophobia lasts for mere moments before they’re lifted into the air in celebration, carried out into the main streets of Vesuvia as cheers ring out around them. It’s impossible to empathize with any of it.

Nearing the fountain in the square, Asra lifts his staff, which hadn’t been confiscated for whatever reason. The water from the fountain cascades out of it in one long tidal wave, which Asra climbs atop as if it were a solid surface, riding it over to Kamui and pulling him close to his chest. The wave leaves them on their feet next to the fountain itself, all the water neatly returning as it once was. The crowd either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care, as no one approaches them afterwards, or even so much as calls out to them.

Kamui’s knees buckle, and he stumbles backwards, just barely catching himself on the lip of the fountain. Tawny hands steady him on his way into a seated position, with Asra joining him on his left side. The staff is discarded carelessly onto the stone pavement with a clack barely audible over the cacophonous sound of voices echoing through the streets.

No words are exchanged between them. The lack of air making it into Kamui’s lungs and the cold dread settling over both of them says enough. He leans heavily on his hands, one of them shifting to reach for a hood that he wasn’t wearing anymore. The finery left him feeling uncomfortably exposed to all the prying eyes of Vesuvia’s Center City, causing him to lean forward until a combination of his hair and Asra are hiding his face.

"I’m sorry, Kamui. It wasn't supposed to happen like that," Asra eventually says. The low tones of his voice are only audible thanks to their proximity. It’s nearly drowned out otherwise. The sounds of revelry and excited gossiping are deafening, and everytime a word can be made out from amongst the noise it sends another stab of grief or anger through his chest. How could they act like this? Someone was going to die tomorrow, and all they cared about was the drama of it all, the thrill.

 _Disgusting_. Was this what the inner city was like now? Just a bunch of people who only cared about themselves, their own entertainment? Someone was going to _die_ and they were all celebrating it.

Kamui pulls himself back up. Everything feels like it’s vibrating, and he isn’t sure if he’s breathing correctly. Was his eyesight always this bad? He could hardly see anything beyond the person directly in front of him. A bold crimson stands out in the corner of his vision, and his thumb finds its way to Asra’s jaw, warm liquid coating his fingertip.

"Your lip," Kamui mumbles, sounding completely drunk or perhaps feverish. Not normal, anyway. There’s no response, just the movement of violet eyes down to where his hand hovers over the wound, green light bursting from his fingertips until the gash seals closed, leaving behind nothing but a stain. He lets his head droop afterwards, tucking himself into the crook of Asra’s neck and shoulder as arms wrap around him, pulling him close.

It feels like there are thousands of eyes on them, watching them, the center of attention. Not a private moment, but a public spectacle. Nearly wheezing from either hyperventilation or not breathing at all—it all felt the same at the moment—Kamui says, "People are looking at us."

"No one is," Asra reassures.

" _Everyone_ is," Kamui insists, gritting his teeth. He grasps onto the fabric wrapped around Asra's hips. "You’re their champion, and I defended you. Everyone is looking."

Magic settles over his body suddenly, falling in slow waves down his head and over his body like a thick pool of warm water. It coaxes a relaxed sigh out of him, the tension in his body ebbing away. He cracks his eyes open to find Asra’s aura coating the both of them like a pale, shimmering sheer curtain. It’s thicker than normal, impossible to see through all the layers of fabric and glitter, the colors shifting a bit like the sky above his gateway, like the fabric was moving, flowing like water. It’s mesmerizing, and it doesn’t go away.

"No one’s looking," Asra repeats.

Kamui raises a hand towards the aura surrounding them, but it just shifts, forming around the shape of his hand without letting him touch it. "What is this?" he asks.

"Just a spell," Asra says, his voice a soothing, intimate whisper. "It’s something I came up with two years ago, when you were just starting to venture out into the market with me. You don’t remember it?"

Oh. Now that he mentions it, it did feel familiar. Nostalgic, even. "I don’t think I ever looked at it. It’s… can you see it?"

"No," Asra responds. "What does it look like?"

This, also, Kamui could spend hours writing poetry about. Maybe he should learn how, the desire was getting kind of strong. "Beautiful," he says, although it doesn’t feel like nearly enough. "Mesmerizing," he adds. _It’s like you. Comfortable, enchanting, creative and thoughtful…_

His chest starts to ache, in an odd sort of way. Like he wants to cry, like he wants to hold on tight, tight, _tighter_ , a desire he doesn’t know the meaning of. His eyes flutter closed, keeping the sight of Asra’s aura in his thoughts, too tired to continue watching but longing to see it again anyway. It almost felt wrong to look away, prompting him to open his eyes several more times to keep watching until his eyelids are just too heavy to go on.

Distantly, he recognizes the feeling of being lifted up, with the sort of weightlessness that felt like a spell but was likely just a combination of his lack of body mass and Asra’s strength. It felt good, as opposed to _concerning_ , which a voice in the back of his head was telling him it should be. But it was hard to feel bad about anything; he felt like he was sinking deep into a nice, warm bath. Safe and comfortable, in the arms of someone who cared for him and would still be there when he opened his eyes again.


	11. The Hanged Man - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added visual references for Kamui's outfits to The Lovers (1), Chariot (2), Strength (2), and Hermit. You don't have to go digging for them, though, they're all on his toyhou.se profile which is linked at the start of the fic. You can also find more refs for his Hermit outfit (which returns in this) over there, in terms of the back of it and how he wears the shawl etc etc or you can just visualize whatever you want. It's optional really

The next time Kamui opens his eyes, the scenery has shifted considerably. The final vestiges of Asra's calming spell cloud his mind, preventing him from panicking at the change in location; he was in the palace, lying on the bed in his guest chambers. His outfit was missing, replaced with a sleeveless, sheer sleeping gown in an alluring shade of deep red, and loose black pants. It wasn’t surprising to find the Countess spoiling him with more new clothes, yet again. He could really get used to this kind of treatment…

There’s an arm around him, which he follows to where Asra lays on the bed beside him, dressed in a similar outfit, only a lot more colorful, with patterns drawn across the chest and along the sleeves, reaching slightly above the wrist. Kamui shifts up on his elbows, turning to face him. Sliding his arms around the magician’s torso, he lays his head down, closely observing the peaceful expression of Asra’s resting face, lips slightly parted. Despite the pleasant view, it doesn't take very long before Kamui's anxieties come crawling back.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose and holding it for several seconds, he climbs out of bed, ignoring the way his eyes continue to burn. Sparing a glance back at Asra’s sleeping form, he confirms that the magician is still very much asleep before stepping over to the balcony doors.

The sun is setting, painting the sky in soft pinks and golds. With a wistful sigh he spares another glance behind him, where Asra’s arms have curled up around the space Kamui used to occupy. Slumping back against the wall next to the balcony doors, Kamui tilts his head back, muffling a groan behind his closed mouth.

_You went after the most wanted man in Vesuvia, and now he’s been caught, like he was always going to be. He was always going to be executed. What else did you think was going to happen?_

Kamui presses his hands against his closed eyes, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to see sparks. Following a few grounding breaths, he tears his hands away, striding over to the balcony doors. Yanking them open, he cringes as the warm air hits his skin. Disappointingly, it wasn’t late enough for a cool, nighttime breeze. That was fine. Fresh air was supposed to work for… something, so he stands out on the balcony, overlooking the palace grounds.

It doesn’t work. It just looks like _a lot_ , like—it was a lot to run through if you needed to make a quick escape. And it was a long way down, if he needed to jump.

Would Asra even support the idea of breaking Julian out? Does Asra care that much? They have history, which is more than Kamui can claim, yet the thought of something horrible, of something  _final_ happening to Julian terrifies him. It wasn't farfetched to think that maybe they did know each other, in the past neither of them remembers; the only person who ever recognized him was Asra. Everyone else forgot about him. They must have, anyway, considering he's been in Vesuvia for at least nine years. Presumably.

Leaning on the balcony railing, he idly draws swirls into the marble while staring out into the distance, watching the sky slowly change colors. Eventually he hears movement behind him, and turns to find Asra sitting up, rubbing at his eyes. Worry flits across his face as he notices Kamui standing out on the balcony. Before he can get any ideas, Kamui heads back over to the bed, leaving the balcony doors wide open.

Arms outstretched, he climbs back into bed, wrapping Asra up in his arms. Curly hairs tickle his jaw as Asra leans his head on Kamui's shoulder. Neither of them speak. There’s little point to it—asking things like _how did you sleep_ and _are you okay_ would be worthless. The answers are just going to be _badly_ and _no_. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. Instead, they hold onto each other, while staring into the middle distance, blank. Exhausted. Distantly Kamui recognizes his own hunger pangs, wanting nothing to do with them.

Eventually, Asra pulls away, pressing a kiss to the bridge of Kamui’s nose before urging them both into a lying position, facing each other on their sides. Kamui tangles their legs together. Asra’s hand at his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek, is the only thing keeping him from nuzzling into his chest and going back to sleep. It would be a bad idea, they were wasting time, there was only so much time, but.

He just wanted to give up. It would be so easy. But he couldn’t give up, and that was so exhausting that he didn’t even know how to deal with it. With the thoughts of what they would have to do, what they might have to sacrifice. What they might lose anyway, no matter what.

And through it all, he was left wondering just how alone he was in all of this. Did Asra care? Was he scared, or at least anxious?

Softly, almost inaudibly, Kamui asks, "Asra, how are you feeling?" It wasn’t the type of question he expected to receive an answer to—now or ever. For as much as the magician could show in his expressions and body language, he was pretty closed off. Kamui understands; it’s dangerous, voicing the kinds of things he knew around someone whose mind potentially couldn’t take it.

But Asra remains silent, running his hand through Kamui’s hair, down around the side of his neck. Holding a strand between his fingertips, stroking over the silky smooth lock of hair. Minutes pass before he says, "I sent Faust to the shop with Muri. They’re going to try and get some supplies to us for the ritual."

Kamui frowns. Had he not been heard? That couldn't be possible, with how close they were to each other.

Misinterpreting the crease of Kamui’s brows, Asra keeps talking. "I was thinking Nadi might be willing to help us if we just tell her about the ritual. We could stage the hanging. It doesn’t really have to happen, the city just has to think it did."

It takes Kamui a moment to properly process what he's talking about. To register that Asra was coming up with a plan of action, something to do to save Julian, while Kamui wasn't even awake enough to tolerate such exhausting lines of thinking. More than that, it completely evaporates all his prior concerns.

He had been so sure Asra might try to convince him to give up. It was barely even a week ago that he was telling Kamui how Julian was just obsessed with his own misery. Using the type of voice that said  _"he's not worth it, forget about him"._ It was only a few days after that he was trying, yet again, to convince Kamui to stay away. Now he was afraid for Julian's life?

…Or… was he worried for Kamui's feelings? Kamui didn't truly believe the things he heard in the coliseum, when the two people he held dearest had finally lost their nerves and snapped at each other. Didn't believe Julian could be right; or maybe he just didn't want to.

"Are you worried about him?" Kamui asks.  _Or are you just worried about me?_

With a slight frown, Asra’s gaze falls entirely to the wispy strand of hair held in his hands, curling around his fingers in the same way it would Kamui’s neck. It doesn’t take long before Asra pulls away, pushing up into a sitting position and running a hand through his bangs.

"Asra?" Kamui asks, concerned, now, as he rises up onto his elbows. Had he upset him? That hadn’t ever happened before, to his knowledge, but it came as a frightening thought anyway. The last thing he wanted was to hurt him, annoy him, or otherwise drive him away.

Facing away, Asra says, "We don't have a lot of time. We should get dressed and track Nadia down."

Despite the magician not actually making any moves to do so, Kamui sits up, grabbing onto Asra's arm to prevent him from escaping. "Please answer me," Kamui says gently.

Amethyst eyes stare down at the hand on his arm, before flickering up to Kamui's lips. Several seconds pass before Asra reaches over to brush Kamui's hair out of his eyes, smiling gently and asking, "Are you hungry? We could probably have a servant bring us something, if we asked nicely."

The same hand snatches Asra's wrist out of the air, startling him. "I can do that, too, you know," Kamui says flatly. "Changing the subject, acting like you don't hear me." Asra stiffens, expression neutral yet Kamui can see the lines of tension in his features. "Please just talk to me. I'm worried about you."

"You don't have to be," Asra insists, brows furrowing with concern. Kamui finds himself strangely suspicious of the expression. "Kamui, I'm fine. If everything goes according to plan, then there's nothing for us to worry about at all."

"You mean like your first plan?" Asra winces. Maybe it was a bit of a low blow, but it was time for a reality check anyway. Sitting up on his knees, Kamui positions himself to place both hands on Asra's biceps, violet eyes following his every movement. "Asra, you turned yourself in for a man you hardly even like. Now you're talking about committing a felony to save him from getting hanged. What's going on?"

Silence sets in. Asra remains nearly stiff as a board, expressionless, impossible for Kamui to tell what he's thinking. It fills him with a mounting suspicion that he might just change the subject again; like if he waited for long enough, either something distracting would happen, or Kamui would be more willing to let him off the hook.

Why couldn't he just say what was on his mind? Was it dangerous? But, no—that couldn't be the excuse every single time.

Eventually, Asra breaks the silence, his gaze drifting down towards Kamui's collar as he says, "I don't know what to tell you."

Kamui frowns, his grip on Asra's arms loosening. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that I don't know," Asra says, gently prying Kamui's hands off of him. His explanation doesn't leave Kamui any less confused, or give him any less of a desire to ask questions.

"Are you scared?" Kamui asks.

The question catches Asra by surprise, his lips parting as if to deny it, but no sound ends up coming out. "I don't know how I feel," he eventually says.

"You seemed really sure of yourself at the coliseum," Kamui says. "Please tell me you're not letting what Julian said get to you. I believe you when you say you care about him, even if he doesn't."

"I don't even know if I believe myself," Asra admits. "He could be right. The way that I feel about you, it's not the same as how I feel about him. But there's still this…" With a sigh, he closes the distance between them to seek out a hug, which Kamui immediately gives him, allowing him to hide his face against Kamui's shoulder. "I'm really confused, Kamui. On the one hand, I'd be fine if it was just you, me, and Faust, forever. On the other…"

He pauses, during which time Kamui soothingly rubs his back, praying it's helping him to relax. Hands tighten around the fabric of Kamui's dress as Asra clings tighter. "You're right. I'm terrified, and I don't know why."

"That's okay, Asra. I'm scared too," Kamui reassures.

"Of course you are. You're dating him."

"I've known him for maybe two weeks, Asra. You and him go way further back than that, enough that the word 'love' keeps getting thrown around. Even _you_ used it—" Asra physically recoils at the reminder, "And it's only natural for there to be some lingering feelings."

"There might never have been any feelings to begin with. Not the kind you're thinking of," Asra argues. "And, anyway, it's been three years."

" _We've_ been apart for three years," Kamui points out. "Your feelings for me haven't changed. Listen, Asra, it's okay if you don't understand what you feel for him right now, and I understand there's a time pressure. I just want you to know that, no matter what feelings you have for him, platonic or otherwise, I fully support you, and I'm here for you."

A slight chuckle passes through Asra's lips, his grip on Kamui's back loosening as a bemused frown forms on his face. "I get this feeling," Asra starts, "That you have a vested interest in matchmaking me with your boyfriend."

"No, yeah, I do," Kamui admits, which just has Asra laughing even more, however quiet and lackluster it may be. "Don't you think it sounds nice? Like a big cuddle pile."

"I'm not surprised to hear you say that."

A familiar, leathery feeling glides over his skin, coiling around his arms to get up by his neck. He turns at the same time that Asra raises his head, seeing Faust making her way over to her master, wrapping herself around his neck like a scarf. Nuzzling his cheek, she chirps, " _Hugging!_ "

Both magicians chuckle fondly, although it’s Kamui that says, "You can have a hug too, Faust." As she repeats herself excitedly, wrapping around both their necks in a makeshift group hug, Asra’s eyes fall on Kamui, an odd look being leveled at him that has him saying, "What?"

"You can hear her?"

"…Yes?"

" _Yes!_ " Faust echoes, chipper. Asra looks between the two in confusion.

"For how long?" he asks.

"Ah… the first time I heard her say anything was in the courtyard, before she showed me all those visions. She said she was worried about me."

 _"Still worried!_ " Faust announces, much to Kamui’s amusement. He reaches up to give her some skritches under the chin, enthralled by her cat-like response to affection. Turning back to Asra reveals a puzzled, but thoughtful expression, gaze settled on Faust, but far away.

Kamui’s shoulders sag. "I… kind of thought this was your doing? You really didn’t know about this?"

"It's not supposed to be possible," Asra says, sounding just as distant as his gaze. A tawny hand hovers near Kamui’s chest, before quickly withdrawing. Blinking slowly, he comes back to himself, focusing on Faust with a soft smile. "Faust, where’s Muri?"

" _Big friend outside,_ " she says, tail languidly swishing through the air.

Asra’s eyes widen, before carefully pulling out of Faust and Kamui’s embrace and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. There’s a certain haste to his pace that has Kamui raising a brow as he watches the magician step out onto the balcony. Curious, he follows suit, leaning on the railing and quickly spotting a cloaked figure stood tensely on the ground floor, a stark contrast to the pale, marble walls and colorful greenery he’s surrounded by. The man is also absolutely massive, although it appears he’s trying to make himself seem as small as possible, to no avail.

"That’s your friend?" Kamui whispers, not wanting to alert the man waiting below. Asra nods, focusing more on his friend. "How did he get in…?"

The magician turns to him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I taught him a few tricks for breaking and entering," he says, a smug grin on his face.

Kamui chuckles. Balancing his head on one of his hands, he aims an affectionate look at Asra. "And here I thought I couldn’t get any more attracted to you."

The comment has Asra’s smile turning more simpering. He reaches out to brush some of Kamui’s hair aside, pressing a kiss to his forehead before turning back to his friend. Minding his volume, he calls out. The man turns at what Kamui assumes is his name, something vaguely resembling a possible smile forming on his lips before his eyes land on Kamui, and it’s completely gone, replaced with a clear look of distaste.

_Oh. It’s like that, huh._

Without a single word of warning, Asra climbs up onto the balcony, hopping off the other side and free falling in Muriel’s direction. There’s only a small amount of magic slowing his descent, which appears to be purposeful, as Muriel starts to panic, holding out his arms to catch Asra as he falls. He lands softly in the man’s massive arms, more-or-less immediately posing quite comfortably, legs crossed and arms behind his back.

"Hey, Muri," Asra says.

 _Cheeky_ , Kamui thinks, muffling a chuckle behind his hand.

With a soft, but exasperated sigh, Muriel sets Asra down, with a lot more caution than was probably needed. In a quiet, almost mumbling voice that Kamui can barely make out from his position, the man responds, "You didn’t need to jump."

"I wanted to," Asra responds, aiming an easy smile up at his friend. He steps closer, investigating a bag hanging from Muriel’s shoulder, concealed partially beneath his cloak. "Did you find everything okay?"

"Yes."

A bit quieter, Asra asks, "And you’re… okay?"

A few moments pass in silence. It’s hard to tell a lot of what’s going on from several stories away, but Kamui tries his best, before realizing… Oh, this was eavesdropping. With a considerable amount of effort, he tears his eyes away from the scene below him, watching the sunset instead.

Before too long, the voices from below start to get closer, and he turns, seeing Asra stepping back up onto the railing from off an invisible platform. Muriel is following after him, moving much more cautiously, hunkering down slightly so he appeared more like a toddler climbing upstairs for the first time. The sight automatically brings an amused, but endeared smile to Kamui’s face. It was just so… cute?

Asra balances elegantly on the railing until Muriel is able to join him, at which point he reaches for both the man’s hands to help him ease onto the balcony proper. There’s a thick blush on the man’s face afterwards, which Kamui can only assume is from embarrassment, and he ducks his head, avoiding Kamui’s curious gaze.

Pulling his hands back, Asra waves one of them to dispel whatever he’d cast to get them up here. "I was thinking we should do the ritual out by the fountain. It would be easier, for me at least," Asra says, suddenly all-business.

"How exactly are we going to get you-know-who to the fountain?" Kamui asks.

"We might have to talk to Nadi about that," Asra muses. He looks up at Muriel. "Let’s go inside. Less prying eyes."

The hulking man just nods, silently following along only after both magicians have made it back inside. Anxiety rolls off of him in waves as he casts a watchful eye out the glass balcony doors. However, Asra is quick to grasp one of Muriel’s hands in both of his, urging him farther inside. After settling him onto the bed, Asra moves back to the balcony doors. The tip of his index finger glows a bright, vivid orange as he draws two runes into the glass, one on each door. They fade from view afterwards, but they’re enough to have Muriel starting to relax a bit.

While Asra moves to do the exact same to the bedroom door, Kamui perches on the bed, keeping a careful distance from Muriel. Green eyes shift between him and Asra, with a paranoia even more prominent than Julian’s the night he was at the shop. Confused on what exactly he was meant to do to make things better, Kamui attempts a warm smile during one of the moments he catches Muriel looking at him. It completely fails, something resembling an annoyed pout forming on the man’s face before turning back to Asra.

Alright. So there was something fundamentally wrong between them, then.

After securing every potential entrance or exit in the room, Asra joins them on the bed. Rather than sit between them, he crawls onto the bed, crossing his legs and gesturing for Muriel to hand him the bag he’d brought with him. In the process, Faust slithers off Kamui’s shoulders to investigate the pile of supplies Asra starts pooling around the bed; there’s two different tomes, several containers of drawing instruments, some small clay bowls, and jars of various wild ingredients Kamui can only name half of. The arsenal grows intimidating as Kamui realizes they’re more than likely going to be using _everything_ in the pile.

"A-Asra, _how_ complicated is this spell?" Kamui asks. He was turned halfway towards Asra, now, a knee curled up on the bed with his other leg dangling off the side. Disregarding caution, he lifts a jar at random, finding some type of undulating plant, coiling around the inside of the glass like it was alive. It draws his fascinated gaze, until Asra gently pries it from his hand, replacing it back into the pile.

"I think now you can see why I said this would take several days," Asra says. "If we’re going to send him directly to The Hanged Man’s realm, then that complicates things even further. Things like this," he lightly taps a blue-painted fingernail against the jar Kamui was just observing, "Should direct the spell."

"I think I understand?" Kamui says, watching as Asra lifts one of the tomes and starts flipping through it. "If we wanted to go to The Magician’s realm, would we have a bunch of black sand instead?"

"If _we_ wanted to go, we could just go," Asra says, smirking. "But for Ilya, yes. That would work." Lowering the book into his lap, he turns to Muriel, smiling softly. "Thank you for doing all of this, Muri. I feel like I’m asking a lot of you…"

Muriel’s eyes fall shut, and he slowly shakes his head once. "It’s fine," he says. It’s incredibly hard to tell, from Kamui’s perspective anyway, if that’s even true or not. The initial anxiety and paranoia Muriel was giving off weren’t so prevalent anymore, not since the sigils went into place, but that didn’t stop him from looking horribly stiff and tense.

He turns to Asra, who has a look on his face that Kamui recognizes quite well—the soft, patient smile of _I don’t believe you, but I won’t pressure you_. Muriel looks away, so Asra moves on, explaining bits and pieces of the spell as he understands it to Kamui. Every now and then he’ll correct something he’s said as he flips through the tomes, looking a little distressed to have forgotten. But Kamui just nods and smiles patiently, like everything he says is perfect.

After a while of explaining and sorting through ingredients to establish some sense of order among the chaos, there’s a knock at the door. The sound startles Muriel enough that his jump jostles the entire bed, knocking several bottles together. Immediately afterwards he looks embarrassed by his reaction, with Asra laying a calming hand on his bicep. A familiar voice calls through the doorway, mindful of her volume.

"Kamui? Are you awake?" Portia calls, just loud enough to be heard and not a decibel higher.

Before answering, Kamui looks to his two companions for permission. Muriel seemed skittish at best, and he didn’t want to go making everything worse. Asra and Muriel look to each other, a silent conversation passing between them, before Muriel nods slowly. There’s discomfort in his expression, but still Asra gives Kamui a reluctant go-ahead.

After deactivating the sigil and pulling open the door, the handmaiden immediately lets herself in, not even noticing the presence of the other two. "Sorry, Kamui, I hope I didn’t wake you," Portia starts, pulling a bag from her shoulders and laying it out on a nearby table. "There’s not a lot of time. I figured out where Ilya is being held, but there’s some heavy security, so, I was thinking we could—"

She turns, immediately spotting the other two people in the room. Her eyes go wide. "Uh. Oh! Hello there! Uh, haha, who might you be? Don’t mind our, er, completely normal conversation! It was, uh, a game? We were playing?"

An awkward smile crosses Asra’s lips while Muriel turns away, pretending to be anywhere else. Stepping forward, Kamui gently places a hand on Portia’s shoulder, unsure if the contact was appreciated or not. Judging on how she doesn’t shove him away or even appear bothered, he supposes it’s fine.

"It’s okay, Portia," Kamui says. "We were just talking about a spell we could use to help Julian. Not, uh, help him escape, but, we’re kind of… all in on it?"

A heavy sigh of relief parts Portia’s lips. "Oh, thank god," she says, steepling her fingers as she looks conspiratorially off to one side. "Okay, so, there’s a holding cell for him in—Oh, hold on, let me get my map, I’ll show you."

She reaches inside her bag, pulling out a scroll which she spreads out on the bed where everyone can see it. Muriel flinches at her proximity, growing somehow even more tense at her added presence. It doesn’t escape her notice, though, and she rambles out a quick apology before moving over to where Kamui had been sitting before, leaving Kamui to stand nearby her.

"Is this a map of every portal and hidden entrance in the palace?" Asra asks, looking equal parts surprised and impressed.

Looking a little pleased with herself, Portia responds, "Well, it’s everything I’ve found so far."

Asra’s lips quirk into a smug grin. "You missed one in the library," he says. This has Portia starting a bit, scrambling to locate the library on her map.

"But I’ve been all over that place…! Where is it?"

"It’s more fun if you find it yourself," Asra coolly responds. Portia makes a noise like she isn’t so sure she wants to agree, before relenting and giving a little tilted nod.

Afterwards, she points out several key areas on the map, suggesting plans of escape. "I have a carriage waiting outside the palace," she says in a rush, a little overexcited. "The driver’s someone I know, won’t pay us any mind. They can take us right to the docks, where we can smuggle Ilya onto a boat, and it’ll take him outside the country."

"This is a _full_ escape plan?" Asra asks, frowning a bit. "I was thinking something a little different."

That gets Portia’s attention right away, sparks dancing in her eyes. "Oh, do you have a spell that could make him invisible? Or a teleportation spell?"

"Uh… yes and no," Asra responds. "Actually, I was thinking of an illusory spell…"

As Asra goes on about his idea to fake the hanging, doing his best to put it in layman’s terms, the door to the bedroom opens. Everyone stops talking at once, four pairs of eyes landing on the newcomer in mixtures of shock and terror. Nadia stands tall in the doorway, looking not the least bit surprised to see any of them.

"Ah! Milady!" Portia starts, darting to her feet and using her back to block the map laid out on the bed.

"Portia. What a pleasant surprise," Nadia says. There’s a certain wisdom to her expression that Kamui doesn’t like the look of; he glances over to Asra, who appears just as, if not more uncomfortable, face paling at Nadia's presence. "It seems you’re all in the same place. Although, I don’t believe I’ve met all of you…" She trails off as her eyes land on Muriel, who looks away automatically, using a combination of his hair and his cloak to hide his face.

"Ah, Milady, I can explain this," Portia says, bright red and overly flustered as she struggles to come up with a convincing excuse. While she flounders, Asra climbs over the bed, avoiding damaging any of its contents. Landing smoothly on his feet, he forces a casual smile, lifting a hand to still Portia's attempts at covering for them.

"Nadia, we need to talk to you."

"I would say so," she smoothly responds. "We can do it over dinner. I was intending to send Portia to bring you there, but… well, you can see why I couldn't."

Portia blushes even deeper, lowering her head in shame. Meanwhile, Asra glances back to Muriel, whose eyes are wide with fear at the prospect of following the Countess anywhere. "The three of us, maybe," Asra says. "My friend here has an errand to run. He forgot something down at the shop. Isn’t that right, Muri?"

Relief flashes over Muriel’s face, and he nods once in response.

"That’s too bad. Perhaps some other time, then?" Nadia says.

Seeing the two magicians are still dressed down, she leaves them to their own devices, ordering Portia to lead them to the main dining hall once they’re done. She agrees in an instant, jittery and eager to please, and goes to wait outside their room. Once the three are alone, sighs at varying volumes and degrees of anxiety are shared amongst them.

"Are we screwed? Because I'm really getting the feeling that we're screwed," Kamui says, aiming a tense look in Asra's direction. The magician takes a deep breath, holding it for several seconds. There's a pleasant smile on his face afterwards that doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"Let's get dressed," he says. Kamui isn't sure if it's better or worse that he hadn't received an answer.

There's a dresser on one side of the room that Asra steps right over to, opening a drawer to reveal not just their finery, but the outfits they were wearing before that, _and_ the ones they wore to the palace several days prior. All freshly laundered. After a slight bit of deliberation, Kamui opts for the outfit he'd worn before his dance with Asra. As they start undressing, Muriel turns around to give them some privacy.

"You don’t have to do that, Muri," Asra laughs. "You’ve already seen everything I have, and Kamui’s not shy."

He was right about the latter, but… "Wait, he’s seen _everything_ you have?" Kamui asks, scandalized. His question has Asra laughing, further increasing the blush growing on Kamui’s face at the implication.

"Not _that_ closely. We grew up together, Kamui, we used to bathe together."

"Is that normal? For children to take baths together?"

"I don’t know. I was an only child," Asra responds, while unbuttoning the collar of his dress.

"Was I? An only child, I mean."

There’s no response for several moments, Asra’s easy smile vanishing to be replaced with something more cautious, more apprehensive. Kamui thinks to take it back, to tell him he doesn’t have to answer that, when Asra surprises him.

"No," he says. "You have an older sister."

When Kamui doesn’t have any negative reactions to the information, some of the tension in Asra’s stiff shoulders melts away. There’s a look of curiosity and interest on Kamui’s face, prompting him to ask, "How much older? What’s her name? Have you met her?"

Asra chuckles fondly as he responds, "Five minutes, Sae, and no."

"I’m a twin?!" Kamui exclaims, accidentally dropping his sleeping gown. It levitates just above the ground, with Asra moving it magically up onto the dresser. "Wait, Kamui and Sae? Who names twins that way?"

Something uncomfortable flashes in Asra’s eyes as he busies himself with his own clothing, using it as a method of stalling. After a few minutes, during which Kamui has stopped expecting a response, Asra speaks up, his voice quiet like he doesn’t want his words to be heard. "Your name is Senri."

Stunned silent, all Kamui can do is stare back at him in disbelief. "I’m sorry, what?"

Asra’s shoulders sag. His brows furrow, looking almost scared, as if Kamui was about to flip out on him. "Please trust me when I say there was a reason I never told you that," he says.

"You’re trying to tell me I went catatonic over my own name?" Kamui flatly asks.

"It was… more of a pain reaction," Asra responds. There’s a haunted look in his eyes which he quickly tries to clear, turning to Kamui with a tight smile. "Do you need help getting into your outfit?"

The attempt to change the subject fails completely. "Asra, what’s my full name?" Kamui asks, no longer focused on getting dressed. Without a word, Asra reaches for Kamui's gold belt, clipping it around his waist despite his lack of response to the offer for help.

"Senri Kamui," Asra says.

For as much as he wants to pace wildly about the room right now, Kamui manages to hold still in order to let Asra finish tying the ribbon on the back of his collar. Sensing his unrest, Asra continues. "Kamui, I _wanted_ to tell you. Now that you seem to be handling things better, it kind of just… slipped my mind."

After finishing up with the ribbon, Asra slides his hands around to Kamui’s front, chest pressing against his back, skin to skin, spreading warmth. He lays his head on Kamui’s shoulder, trying to get a look at his expression, without much success.

"You never wanted to be called anything other than Kamui," Asra continues, speaking lowly nearby Kamui's ear. "It's how you introduced yourself to me. It was easy for me to forget you had any other names. I haven't even thought about it in years."

Kamui frowns, chewing the inside of his cheek before saying, "Why would I go by my last name?" It didn't seem like something people did—he couldn't even imagine calling Julian 'Devorak' all the time. Then again, maybe he was just lucky to have been born with a surname that worked so well in reverse.

"You hated Senri," Asra says.

"I can see why. It’s terrible," Kamui gripes. It didn't sound like him at all; not a single part of him identified with it. Asra might as well have made it up on the spot. "I just don’t see why it would give me a headache when ‘Kamui’ never did."

"I don’t know. Even now, I don’t really understand how your headaches work. It's all been a really unfortunate game of trial and error," Asra says, sighing. Pressing a kiss to the side of Kamui’s neck, he gives his apprentice a quick squeeze before pulling away to track down his shoes. Kamui follows suit not long afterwards.

"Don’t forget about this," Asra says, pulling Kamui out of the depths of his mind. Standing behind his apprentice, he drapes the golden chain of the magician’s emerald from his shoulders, twirling it once around his neck so it rests higher on his chest. Something about the action feels distinctly romantic, and sets Kamui’s heart pounding.

Before leaving, Kamui winds his shawl around his shoulders, as Asra pauses to whisper something into Muriel’s ear. It’s hard to tell what the meaning behind that is, with Muriel giving next to no reaction to it, and Kamui’s inquiring eyebrow raise doesn’t work to get Asra to fess up. It wasn’t his business, but he wanted to know, anyway.

Portia’s still waiting for them outside, her posture about as tense as Kamui’s ever seen it. It reminds him of Julian, the way he could look just about ready to spring into the stratosphere to escape an undesirable situation. She’s all nerves as she leads the three—Kamui could see Faust poking out of Asra’s collar—into the dining hall, hands shaking as she holds open the doors for them.

It takes a moment for Kamui to adjust to the light. There's an arm at his waist leading him forward while his eyes stop stinging. They stop after only a few steps, and Kamui blinks, observing his environment. It wasn't terribly new; he'd been here before, more than once. The table had enough servings for a small group of people, with place settings laid out for the three newcomers, Portia included amongst them.

It takes only a second after that for his eyes to snap over to the one thing that stood out with the most clarity; the dark black and stark reds of Julian's clothing, from where he sat at the chair closest to the door, only two seats away from the Countess herself. There's an awkward, strained imitation of his usual grin on Julian's face as he looks between each of the three.

Without thinking, Kamui darts the room, throwing himself at Julian almost hard enough to knock his chair over. Holding tight, he can feel Julian's face pressing into his bare chest, unable to distinguish which of them it is that's turned warm, suddenly. All he cares about is knowing Julian is still alive, unharmed, and close enough to touch. Burying his face in Julian's hair, he squeezes the man tight, feeling an arm raise to return the embrace.

Completely oblivious to the rest of the room, Kamui pulls back just enough to look Julian in the eye. He's halfway in the man's lap at this point, with one of his knees between Julian's legs. "Are you alright?" Kamui asks, caressing Julian's face in both hands. It was unnecessary to check him for injuries, although the desire was there, anyway.

He could just picture how the guards must have handled him. If the people at the trial were so eager to cheer for his imminent demise, why would anyone else spare him the mercy? Just the thought that one of the guards could have mistreated him made Kamui's blood boil. Having made the guards from his first day at the palace squirm had been fun enough; but this? He wouldn't be satisfied with _just_ humiliation.

"I'm fine, dear," Julian gently responds, reaching up to wrap a gloved hand around one of Kamui's.

"Did they hurt you?"

"Nothing I can't handle, I assure you." The way ruby red eyes go wide at that shows him exactly how serious Kamui's being, and he quickly amends, "They didn't do anything to me, Kamui. It was all perfectly civil."

Kamui sags with relief. "Oh. Good." He resists the urge to say _because I might have had to kill someone_. Joking or not, it wasn't wise to do in front of—

The Countess. His eyes snap over in her direction, catching her watching him with wide eyes. Her shocked, yet curious expression softens as she notices him looking back at her, replaced with an almost teasing grin instead. Kamui couldn't be sure how he was supposed to interpret that; was he about to die? Is that why she found this so funny? Was this funny to her?

"How enlightening this is already," Nadia says. She turns toward something behind him, inclining her head in its direction. Glancing over his shoulder, he finds Asra and Portia taking their seats, with Asra keeping a close watch on him out of the corner of his eye. Near-matching red eyes meet once more, as Nadia says, "I had my suspicions, during the trial. How interesting it is to see my theory confirmed."

Kamui tenses. Almost immediately Julian's hand shifts from his, to around his back in an almost protective hold, rubbing gentle circles in an attempt to calm him. It helps to ease some of the anxious thoughts flooding his mind—namely, how did she suspect them? What had he done, during the trial specifically?

"Well now, doctor. I'm certain your collar doesn't need to be buttoned quite that high up," Nadia says. Puzzled, Kamui turns back to Julian to find his neck covered by the collar of his waistcoat. He wasn't even aware it went that high.

"It's, er. Cold in here?" Julian says, slowly turning deeper shades of pink the longer Nadia continues to stare at him, expectant.

Curious, Kamui tugs open his collar. The garter from his finery is still there, the glittering color-change emerald resting prominently against Julian's throat. It's dimmer than it was before, but still unmistakeably magical. It isn't until that exact moment that everything hits him and he _realizes_ just how much this looks like a sexual fetish.

And, well. It is. It's thrilling and possessive and he loves it, but it's not the right time to be enthralled by the concept of putting his boyfriend in a collar. He quickly covers it back up before anyone else can see it.

Turning to leave, he finally notices Julian's right wrist is cuffed to one of the legs of the table. At around the same time that Nadia waves over one of the guards to uncuff him, Kamui uses his magic to break the lock himself, hearing someone in the background gasp. The cuffs clatter uselessly to the ground, Nadia's brows raising at the sight of it.

Even though the mark would likely do all the work, Kamui takes a moment to rub Julian's wrist, partially for comfort and partially to make a statement. Afterwards, he moves over to the seat between Asra and Julian, crossing his legs confidently like he isn't all kinds of terrified and anxious, his heart hammering away in his chest.

"Well," Nadia says, blinking. "That was quite the display. Certainly one way to get your message across…"

"I'm nothing if not incredibly bold," Kamui says, with a lot of bravado he doesn't currently possess. Being completely honest—as much guts as he fancies himself as having, he's still pretty afraid for his life. She has to _know_ that this didn't start this morning. He'd read enough law books to know what what he'd done was called, and that it was definitely punishable by _something_ , depending on who you ask.

If he was going to go down for this, he'd make sure it was exciting.

Nadia laughs. "I'd say so. How very interesting this evening has turned out to be."

Distracting from… all of _that_ , Asra speaks up. "Nadia, we need to talk to you about this."

"I would say so," she smoothly replies. "Do tell about this spell of yours, now that your little escape plan isn't necessary." Portia pales, even more so than she already had.

"M-Milady, I can explain—"

"No need. Do you think I didn't notice your reaction when I spoke of having the doctor hanged? You aren't clumsy, Portia. I know you better than that."

Portia's eyes widen. That was over a week ago now—did Nadia carry those suspicions for that long? Had she figured it out immediately, or was she waiting for more proof? The thought that she might be a lot smarter than Kamui had given her credit for—and he thought she was quite clever to begin with, enough to get away with taking one of Asra's cards outside his notice—terrified him, made him anxious for what else she might have noticed, or suspected.

With a wave of her hand, a servant appears to pour drinks for the table, as Nadia gestures for everyone to dig in to the food set out atop the long table. Kamui isn't so sure he could stomach anything right now, but Asra piles food on his plate anyway, despite the anxiety prevalent in the magician's mannerisms, the tightness of his expression.

"We've been preparing a spell to send Ilya to the arcana realm," Asra starts, since no one else seemed ready to speak up about anything. Blessedly, the concept appears to require minimal explanation for Nadia.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"It's a funny story, actually," Julian starts. "You see—"

"The Hanged Man is his patron," Asra interrupts, ignoring the look Julian sends his way. "He might have valuable information Ilya wouldn't be able to get otherwise, things we might need to know."

"I have a mouth and can speak, you know," Julian gripes.

"We'd be here all night if _you_ explained it."

"Yes, well, you're missing a valuable tidbit there—"

"You think you can get right to him without a spell if you just killed yourself," Kamui says flatly.

" _That's_ why you turned yourself in?!" Portia exclaims, just barely resisting the urge to dramatically slam her hands on the table. "Your plan is to _die_?! This is hands down the stupidest plan you've ever come up with, and I was there for a lot of your plans!"

"Listen! There's a _reason_ I'm doing this, and it's not because I'm on a suicidal bend," Julian exclaims, a touch frustrated over all the interruptions. He lifts a steak knife up off the table, angling it downwards. "Watch this."

Kamui reaches forward to still his hand. "You have a curse that can heal all wounds you receive in seconds," Kamui explains in a rush, sparing everyone the sight of blood. It's seconds after the words leave his mouth that he realizes what Julian's getting at, dropping his hold to instead jump to his feet. "You think you can heal from _death?!_ "

"It's just a running theory, but—"

"A running theory?!" Portia exclaims, joining Kamui by jumping to her feet. Being in the middle of them, Asra shrinks, slumping down in his seat like he can just go ahead and vanish underneath the table.

"Everyone calm down," Nadia says, her voice just strict enough to work in getting the two back into their seats, with Portia looking a touch ashamed of herself. Taking a quick sip of her drink, which Kamui now sees is some kind of white wine, she turns to Asra, who sits up straighter in response. "I'm afraid I'm a bit lost. However, you should know by now that I trust the two of you," she looks to Kamui and Asra as she says this, "Enough to believe that whatever you have planned is something you're doing with good reason."

The Countess' trust in them has their postures relaxing, the fear of being arrested or executed dissipating.

While everyone is still hushed up, Nadia turns to Julian, saying, "I'm under no delusion that you had the ability to kill my husband. You are no threat to me, or perhaps anyone but yourself, it seems." There's a touch of disgust to her expression as she says that. It has Kamui bristling with the urge to defend him, but he wisely remains silent instead. "As such, until the hanging begins tomorrow, I am releasing you into the custody of these two magicians. However. You are not to leave the palace grounds, under any circumstances. Am I clear?"

"Yes. Absolutely," Julian scrambles to say. He clears his throat, "Um. Thank you, Countess."

She sends him a casual smile. "Please. It's Nadia."

Kamui's brows raise as he exchanges a look with Julian, matching looks of surprise on both their faces. There's similar looks from both Asra and Portia, as well as relief as it starts to dawn on Portia that maybe she wasn't about to be fired or arrested.

A pleasant smile tugs at Asra's lips. "Now that that's settled… we actually don't have a lot of time to prepare the spell," Asra says. "We're taking a lot of shortcuts as it is, and The Hanged Man is hard to find."

"I do wonder what you intend to do, in the case that this spell succeeds," Nadia says, before looking over to Julian. "If you only intended to throw the trial by combat to get yourself into his realm…"

"I actually _didn't_ throw the trial by combat," Julian says, quiet, hesitant. Shrinking away from the extra attention it draws from the rest of the table, with Asra's brows raising. Julian makes a noise, raising his glass of wine up to his mouth and taking a very long, slow sip, gaze averted.

"I was using a shield spell," Asra eventually says, brows creasing. "It wouldn't have connected, I would have been fine."

"I… panicked," Julian admits. His eye darts between everyone at the table, hyper-aware of how many people were listening; not just at the table, but around the room, guards at every entrance. The wine saves him from having to say anything else, prolonging the silence enough that the subject gets dropped. For now.

"Regardless…" Nadia says, getting them back on track.

"I have some ideas, but I'd need your full cooperation on this," Asra says. "The city only needs to _think_ Ilya's been hanged. With the right magic, and a bit of acting on Ilya's part, we could convince them he's died when in actuality, he's in no real danger."

As Asra goes into his explanation, with both the other three asking questions or offering criticisms, Kamui more-or-less zones out. His eyes were burning again. None of the energy in the room was working to make him feel properly alert or rested. As it was, it took all he had to pretend to be paying attention, and he couldn't do that most of the time.

"Are you alright?" The low, hushed tone of Julian's voice draws Kamui's attention to his right, where the doctor is watching him with a look of concern. The conversation going on at the rest of the table continues without pause, his question going unnoticed. Kamui blinks slowly up at him, considering.

Matching Julian's volume, he responds, "Not really. I'm worried about you."

"There's nothing to be worried about, I assure you," Julian responds. Waving his hand in a vague gesture, he says, "I've been through this before, and trust me, the novelty has worn off. It hardly phases me anymore." Kamui doesn't really believe that, but he has no energy to persist. "You look exhausted, dear. Have you two gotten any sleep since the trial?"

"I think I fell asleep almost immediately afterwards," Kamui responds. "Asra was next to me when I woke up. What about you?"

"I don't need that much sleep. My curse makes sure of that," Julian dismisses, the word  _curse_ spoken with a certain degree of vitriol. Dissatisfied with that response, Kamui frowns, but doesn't get a chance to protest before Julian continues speaking. "You seem awfully distracted. Or is this luxurious meal not quite to your liking?"

There's a playfully teasing grin on his face that Kamui finds himself more-or-less returning without thinking. "No appetite," Kamui says. His smile vanishes. "I feel like we're wasting time. This spell is really complicated, and we need all the time we can get."

"I don't know about all of that, but. Look, I might not be the best role model, but as a doctor I can tell you that working when you're tired and hungry isn't going to get you very far. And trust me, I've been there, very often."

Kamui could see it quite clearly; and not just because, under all of Julian's charm and bravado, was an exhausted, possibly depressed, lonely man with bags under his eyes nearly darker than his coat. It was easy to see because he'd done it himself, day in, day out, for nearly two years now. And he hadn't even had a plague to cure—just loneliness to distract from.

There were other things to keep him busy now, to such a degree that the amount of times he'd eaten over the past week or so started to blur together in his mind. It was easier to ignore it than to analyze it, though.

Not wanting to get into it over the dinner table, Kamui picks away at some of the bread on his plate, acting like it didn't lack enjoyment and made him reluctant to swallow. Anything to make Julian think he wasn't secretly a huge mess.

After dinner, Asra takes them to the courtyard instead of the guest chambers, where a man in a large cloak is setting up small clay pots around the water fountain. There's a collection of supplies in the grass beside it that Kamui remembers from before dinner, but it doesn't quite click in his mind where they came from or how they got there. However, Asra walks right up to the man with recognition in his eyes, so Kamui decides just to trust him.

"Is this a friend of yours?" Julian asks, leaning to speak lowly into Kamui's ear. The response he gets is a mere shrug, before Kamui wraps a hand around one of his and tugs him over closer to the fountain.

Asra greets the man with a kiss on the cheek, which has both Kamui and Julian raising a brow or two. "How is the spell going?" he asks. The man doesn't respond, and he doesn't really have to, as Asra makes a quick assessment of the setup, rendering his question rhetorical. Kamui tries his best to make heads or tails of it, but all he can really gather is that the man has just gotten the overall layout done, for where they should be drawing their circles and placing their spell ingredients. It leads him to wonder if the man was a magician or not.

"Kamui," Asra says, drawing his attention away from the in-progress spell, which Julian is also examining like he has any idea what any of it means. "I was hoping you would help me with this. I can lead you through it, I just feel it would go faster with two magicians instead of one."

Well, that was one question answered. "Of course," Kamui readily agrees. "What should I do?"

Stepping eagerly over to where Asra sorts through their two spellbooks in search of something in particular, he pays as close of attention as he can muster on so little sleep. All he ends up having to do is help draw the circles, which turn out to be astoundingly intricate. The presence of more than one style of writing implement makes sense pretty quickly, as Asra claims it matters that certain parts of the circles are drawn in different materials.

"Is any of this going to be drawn in blood?" Julian asks. The doctor had escaped their notice as they delved deep into their linework, mildly surprising them with the reminder of his presence. He was hovering nearby, tense. Like he wanted to help without knowing how, or maybe he just wanted to leave. Go to wherever magic wasn't happening.

Kamui goes to say _no_ , but instead opts to let Asra take the reigns, turning to find him gazing thoughtfully off to one side. "That might help," he says, to which Julian pales. "Just a few drops of blood to guide the spell…"

"Please tell me it's not going to come from one of you."

"No, yours would be the most effective," Asra says, oblivious to the concern with which Julian had asked his question. "Mine or Kamui's would draw the spell in directions other than where we want to go."

"Where would mine draw it?" Kamui asks, curious.

"I don't actually know," Asra admits. "Probably nowhere, but it still isn't the best for this spell."

Over the next—well, none of them really know how long it's taking, but it's enough that Julian has started lying in the grass, keeping them entertained with whatever he can think to say, even as the magicians aren't able to pay much attention to it—the two remain hard at work on the spell, drawing from reference out of the two tomes available. Asra's friend, who is mostly just playing the role of assistant to Asra, seems seconds away from telling Julian to stop talking at any given time, but he manages to hold back.

It's after a suspicious lull in Julian's stories that Kamui risks a glance back at him. There's a faraway look in his eye, brows drawn together as he stares up at the stars. It doesn't bode well.

"Kamui," Asra starts, drawing his attention away from Julian. For a moment he feels a little ashamed to have been caught getting distracted, but Asra doesn't say anything about that. The magician's eyes are on the spell as he asks, "How are you doing?"

"Um, I don't know. I feel kind of clumsy," Kamui responds. He looks down at his lines, and back up at the spellbook he was referencing from. It was all so intricate, and he was terrified of messing it all up. They couldn't afford that kind of setback.

Asra scoots over closer, taking a moment to look over Kamui's work. It felt a lot like their old lessons; or, well, not quite _so_ old. Even recently, a lot of their time had been spent on training Kamui's magic. It was… a good excuse for Kamui to get Asra to pay attention, to stick around longer.

The magician's eyes are wide as he glances between the symbols Kamui's drawn and the spellbook. Kamui grimaces, expecting the worst. "They're… perfect?"

That… wasn't what Kamui expected to hear. "Huh?"

Asra smiles over at him, pride glimmering in his eyes. "You're doing perfectly, Kamui," he says. It feels genuine, but Kamui has a hard time believing him. This was difficult, it was taking so long, there was no way he was doing it right. Asra chuckles. "Clumsy, huh? And you're doing even better than me."

"You're just saying that," Kamui dismisses.

"I mean it," Asra insists. He leans to the side, pressing a kiss to Kamui's cheek. He lingers for a moment, the action warming Kamui's face to a pleasant degree and soothing some of his nerves. In a low voice, like it was only meant for Kamui to hear, Asra adds, "You're so much more than you think you are, Kamui."

That, also, has Kamui feeling warm, though still not unpleasantly so. He manages a small smile as Asra returns back to his own work, feeling a bit lighter. After returning to his work and finishing off a section of their circle, he turns back to Asra. He's about to parrot back the same question Asra had asked earlier when he sees the magician pause to press his thumb into his right palm.

"Hey, Asra." The aforementioned magician turns to him, quickly ceasing his movements. "Maybe you should take a break. We've been at this for awhile already…"

Asra's face colors. "I can keep going," he says, sounding strangely flustered. For emphasis, he continues drawing, throwing himself back into his spellwork. To his credit, he _seems_ fine, but…

Kamui glances back over his shoulder, to where Julian has moved over to a nearby tree, looking both bored out of his mind and worryingly lost to his thoughts. It wasn't the right time for Kamui to have to be concerned about both of them. He reaches over, stilling Asra's hand. The look on his face suggests that he expected it.

"Asra. Take a break."

"We don't have that kind of time," Asra argues. There's no heat to his voice, just exhaustion. It leaves Kamui wondering if Asra was feeling anywhere near as beat down by all of this as he was.

"We have ten minutes, at the very least," Kamui insists. Leaning in closer, he adds, "Go relax, okay?"

He gestures towards the tree Julian's at with one of his hands, and Asra wearily follows it with his eyes, quickly spotting where Kamui's pointing towards. His face falls, the look in his eyes telling Kamui that he knew exactly what the red-eyed magician was trying to do. There's an excuse on the tip of his tongue as he turns back to Kamui, but he never gets a chance to deliver it. The charcoal in his hand  _mysteriously_ flies out of it, interrupting his work.

"I'll take over for now," Kamui says, retrieving the stick of charcoal and looking over the book Asra had been referencing from. There's no verbal response from Asra, just a relenting sigh. Kamui shoots him an encouraging smile, and they exchange a kiss; Asra lingers for a bit before getting to his feet.

Asra drifts over to the tree at a snail's pace, yet despite that, Julian doesn't notice he's coming closer until they're nearly right next to each other. Their voices are hushed—Julian's not as much—but, with little else to do while he works aside from listen, Kamui does just that. It's not terribly hard for him to make out the words.

"Taking a break?"

"Something like that," Asra responds. It's hard to make out his tone. From Kamui's vantage point, he can easily glance up to see Asra taking a seat nearby, expression neutral and legs pulled close to his torso. There's enough space between them for a third person to sit.

For awhile, all they do is sit in silence. Head tilted back against the tree, Asra keeps his gaze aimed up at the stars, growing more and more detached over time.

The same can't be said about Julian, who has become a million times more restless ever since Asra came into proximity. It was a complete heel-turn from before; his eyes constantly flickered over towards the magician, before tearing them away, over and over. Lip stuck between his teeth, shaking his leg before catching himself and stopping, fingers clenching and unclenching around his arms. It was like he was bursting at the seams to say or do something, but couldn't decide, or wasn't sure what the outcome would be. But eventually, he gives in and breaks the silence, although his tone is a little too tense to come off as intended.

"You know… this isn't exactly how I thought I'd be spending my last night."

Asra flinches. It doesn't go unnoticed by Julian, who immediately starts backtracking.

"Ah, I didn't mean—It was a joke, you see, I… Just forget I said anything." He turns away, anxiously running a hand through his bangs. Everything about the way the two of them are sat next to each other screams of awkwardness—with Julian purposefully angling his body away from Asra, whose arms are wrapped around his knees, closed off and tense. It was a far cry from some of the ways Kamui had seem them sitting back at the coliseum.

Asra remains silent, slowly relaxing back against the tree, although never fully. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, chest expanding and contracting as he takes a deep breath, before focusing back on the stars. Despite that, he never manages to drift back into his own head—which actually wasn't a very good sign, as far as his nerves went.

"So," Julian says, seemingly antsy for conversation. "I take it the spell is going to be awhile."

"It's normally supposed to take a few days," Asra says. This time, Kamui can plainly make out the almost dreary sound of Asra's voice, and it has him frowning. 'Dreary' wasn't usually a word he found himself using to describe the sound of Asra's voice; light, airy, or soft were more like it. Not  _dead_. "We would have more time if you—" He cuts himself off, lips pressing into a fine line as he turns farther away, visibly restraining himself. "Nevermind."

"I told you, I didn't throw the trial," Julian says, a hint of frustration in his tone. Kamui suppresses a sigh. It hadn't even been a minute and already trouble was brewing.

"I…" Asra trails off, gritting his teeth for a moment before responding properly. "I _want_ to believe that."

"So you don't," Julian says flatly.

"To be fair, there's a lot I've said that you refuse to believe," Asra retorts, fixing Julian with a cold look. It isn't doing him any favors.

"Can you blame me? Everything we used to have was a lie—even the breakup was a lie, if I'm even meant to believe any of what you said back at the cottage. Were you even working on the cure, or was that a lie, too?" Asra flinches at that last statement, and instantly Julian's single visible eye goes wide with disbelief. With a sneer, Julian says, "You're kidding me."

"No! I—"

"What was it, then? Just an excuse to laze around in a palace all day? What were you even doing with all those resources you were using?"

"Ilya, _please_ try to understand. I did what I had to. Everything just spiralled out of control along the way."

Rather than responding, Julian sighs, slumping back against the tree. He stretches out his legs, while Asra stares uneasily at him from out of the corner of his eyes. Eventually, Julian says, "I don't want to fight with you. This isn't the right time for me to go making a scene, anyway."

Asra just nods, although Julian isn't looking. "We can hash this out some other time," he agrees.

"Right," Julian scoffs. "I'll just go ahead and pencil in our argument for after I die."

The dark attempt at humor draws an unexpected, breathless laugh out of Asra. Julian looks to him in surprise. "I think I'd prefer not to _dread_ you living to see tomorrow night," Asra says, uncurling his legs to recline a bit more comfortably. The sight also has Julian visibly relaxing, the tense line of his shoulders easing out.

"Oh? So I suppose you _won't_ be among the crowd cheering for my imminent demise?"

"No," Asra says, stern. The sudden change in reaction has Julian's hesitant smile vanishing, tension returning like it had never left. "I'll be with Kamui."

He glances over in said magician's direction, forcing him to pretend not to have been looking, or listening. While he hadn't once stopped working on the spell, he couldn't help but be attracted to the conversation happening not all that far away. Hushed, to prevent outsiders from hearing it, yet Kamui couldn't help but strain to listen, anyway.

Oblivious to where Asra's attention has gone, Julian asks, "Have you ever… heard of anything like this before? Surviving death, coming back to life, all that jazz. Your, ah, your book didn't exactly say anything about that."

Asra remains perfectly still, giving away nothing in his expression. "I don't know anything about your curse, Ilya. It's a gamble."

"Let's hope I finally get lucky, then."

"Let's _hope_ that you won't have to be," Asra says sharply.

"Right, because we wouldn't want to upset your boyfriend," Julian sardonically says. An exasperated sigh parts Asra's lips at that, his head tipping back out of frustration.

"He's _your_ boyfriend too, in case you forgot," he says, sending Julian a cold look that has him shrivelling. "I don't want you to die, either. Neither does your sister, which I'm sure you'll have less trouble believing."

Julian frowns, but doesn't say anything, fingers tense around the sleeves of his waistcoat. His legs curl close to his body again, and he stares down at the grass, distant.

Their conversation dies there. Kamui sighs; it wasn't what he wanted at all, but maybe it was some type of progress.

He doubles down on his efforts with the spell, getting so absorbed in his work that he doesn't notice it when Asra returns, not at first. A weight at his shoulder causes him to turn, spotting Asra kneeling next to him, a soft smile on his face. It's weary, not quite reaching his eyes.

"Kamui," he starts, "Why don't you take Ilya upstairs, get some rest? Both of you."

Perplexed, Kamui just stares up at him, brows creasing. "We have a lot of work to do still, Asra."

"When we cast the spell," Asra says, sitting down fully, "One of us has to go in with him, as a tether. It's going to have to be you, and I'd prefer you were both well-rested before you went in."

"What? Why wouldn't it be you? I've never been to The Hanged Man's realm before."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but whoever stays behind needs to be able to get the both of you back out, and that's not something you've ever done before. Besides…" He glances back towards the tree, where Julian is still resting, looking perhaps even worse than before Asra went to sit with him. "I don't think he likes me very much, right now. But he likes _you_ , and he'll trust you to guide him."

Kamui sighs. "Okay. But you need to talk to him, after this. Without all the animosity."

Asra tenses, looking off toward the fountain with furrowed brows. "I know," he says.

Leaning forward, Kamui closes the distance between them to steal a kiss, his hand grazing over Asra's forearm, feeling goosebumps along his skin. Pulling away, he glances down before saying, "Are you cold? You should have said something."

"I'm not, really," Asra insists, although Kamui is already removing his shawl, wrapping Asra up in it like a blanket. Color blooms across his cheeks at the act, and he ducks his head, embarrassed. "You don't have to do that, Kamui."

"Nonsense. You're my partner, and I want to take care of you," Kamui says. The look on Asra's face noticeably changes at that, into something so unexpectedly soft that it could almost be considered a swoon. His eyes are wide, lips momentarily fumbling for a response. Eventually he manages a single-word reply, going from looking away to unable to look away as Kamui sends him a tender smile. He's a little confused by Asra's change in mood, but he hasn't the time to investigate it.

Leaving Asra to tend to the ritual alone—more or less, considering the continued presence of someone Kamui could only assume was a close friend of his—he steps over to where Julian rests beneath a nearby tree. A silver eye watches him closely, anticipating his arrival.

"I don't suppose it's your turn to relax now, is it?" Julian asks, smiling up at him in a manner more tender than his typical rakish grin. There's a certain edge of tension to it, though, plus weariness, anxiety, and maybe even a bit of fear, but that might just be a bit of projecting on Kamui's part. No doubt his returning smile is just as tired, if nothing else.

"Both of us, actually. Follow me upstairs, will you, Jules?"

Frowning quizzically up at him, Julian's lips part, but no sound ever comes out, and he gets to his feet in silence. Kamui offers up a hand, watching as Julian stares down at it, surprised to be given the option despite how much Kamui clinged to him on a daily basis. Sliding his gloved hand into Kamui's, the magician gives him a slight squeeze of reassurance before leading him inside the palace.

They head straight for the guest chambers, neither of them speaking along the way. It feels uncharacteristic, leading Kamui to shoot Julian plenty of concerned glances along the way, checking on him. Several times he considers breaking the silence, but comes up with nothing good to say. Not where other people could be listening in, anyway. He couldn't be sure if Julian was having the same problem, or if something else was on his mind.

Once inside the guest chambers, Kamui leads Julian immediately over to the bed, tugging him down onto the edge with him. It's a little strange how distinctly uncomfortable the doctor looks to be sitting there; like he'd never sat down on a piece of furniture in his life.

After slipping out of his ankle boots, Kamui eases up farther back on the bed, folding his legs. "Take off your boots, Jules," he says. Right away Julian sets to unlacing and tugging off his boots, his pace unhurried, but steady. Kamui frowns. Something about all of this was really, really weird, and it was making him uncomfortable. He quickly formulates a plan, telling Julian to remove his waistcoat as well, and it joins his boots on the floor nearby.

"Your shirt, too," he says. The command is apparently what it takes to get Julian to look at him directly, raising a brow as a devilish grin breaks out across his lips.

"Oh, I see what's going on here," Julian says salaciously. While unbuttoning his blouse, he arches his back, slipping the silk fabric off his shoulders _slowly_ , letting it, and his gloves, drift to the floor without a care. Now left in nothing but his sash and leggings, he angles his body in Kamui's direction, a knee up on the bed. "What's next?" he asks.

"That sash, get rid of it."

"With pleasure," Julian responds, grinning wide as he does exactly as he's told, discarding the fabric, and the tasselled ties, onto the floor behind him. Kamui takes a moment to admire the line of hairs trailing from the doctor's navel down past the waistband of his pants.

"Lay down on the bed, on your front," Kamui orders. Julian immediately complies, grinning excitedly. Once he's laid down, Kamui crawls over the back of him, straddling his lower back. It likely wasn't the location Julian expected him to sit, but he doesn't comment on it. Facing opposite where the pillows were settled, Julian rests his head on his arms, looking at Kamui from over his shoulder.

"I don't suppose I get to have a pillow to scream into when you—"

Kamui presses his thumbs into a spot near the back of Julian's neck, feeling a knot begin to unravel as he applies the right amount of pressure. The sensation halts Julian's words as a low groan breaks out of his throat unexpectedly. A small smile forms on Kamui's face at the sound.

"That good, huh?" he asks, chuckling quietly.

"Oh—I, I didn't expect… Please do that again," Julian requests, a trepidatious look in his eyes, as if he thinks Kamui will harshly reject him.

Instead, Kamui responds through action—magically slicking up his hands just enough to allow them to glide smoothly over Julian's bare back, mapping out his various freckles and moles. It's easy to locate more areas of tension; Kamui was no expert on giving massages, really only just knowing the basics after having asked Asra about it once, but he really didn't need to be in this case. Julian's back might as well have been one gigantic knot.

After a rather enticing, borderline sexual moan from Julian, Kamui shifts his hands elsewhere, asking, "Have you _ever_ been given a massage before, Julian?"

The sound of Julian's voice as he replies is breathy and a touch sleepy, lulled into a deep sense of relaxation. "Not that I can recall," he responds. "And if they were anything like this, I think I'd remember them."

Smoothing out a particularly rough knot near Julian's shoulder blade, Kamui says, "I don't know. It seems like everyone's memory is a bit off, these days."

"None more than— _ahhh fuck, that's good_ —N-None more than you, it seems," Julian says. There's a dazed look in his eye as he peers up at Kamui. "Twenty-six years, did you say? That's… I can't even imagine. I feel like I'm only missing a few hours, at most, and that's caused me enough trouble as it is."

Kamui lets out a mirthless huff of a laugh. "I might not have ever been wanted for murder—"

"Or arson, or treason," Julian humorously supplies, drawing another, more genuine laugh out of his lover.

"Right, or arson or treason," Kamui laughs. His smile steadily vanishes, however, brows creasing as his thoughts take a turn for the worse. "Asra and I used to date," he says. "For _years_. Did you know that?"

"No," Julian responds, looking up at him in surprise. "I didn't even know you existed until recently. You, as a person, anyway—I always suspected Asra had someone on his mind, but, I think a lot of things. I can't really trust the ideas that pop into my head."

"I only found out about it yesterday. I felt like we had this connection, something that went further back than three years ago, but I didn't _know_ , and I don't remember a single second of it. Even the things he's told me don't feel like things that really happened to me. You know what else?" he asks, pausing to rub Julian's shoulders, the resulting noise both an encouragement and a quizzical hum.

"Before dinner, Asra told me I have a twin sister. I've never met her, and don't know anything about her aside from her name. It just reminds me of how I can't even remember where I came from, if I had a happy family or a miserable one, if I had any friends, lovers. A familiar. All of it's gone."

"I can't even imagine," Julian says, sounding almost as miserable to be hearing all of this as Kamui is to be saying it. "To see my sister's face and not even recognize her…"

"It's even worse, Jules. She wouldn't recognize you, either."

That gets Julian to turn his head back around, staring up at Kamui in shock. Despite the active massage, his shoulders tense, causing Kamui to move on to focus somewhere else, somewhere less hopeless. "What do you mean?"

"I've been in Vesuvia for nine years, at least," Kamui says. "Asra's never said it, but… there have to be people here that know me from before, except none of them do. There's just… no recognition at all, not from a single person. Sometimes people stare at me, a… a lot of people, all at once. It makes me wonder if maybe they know me, but just can't quite recall."

It also makes him wonder whether they all see something he doesn't; some major flaw, an imperfection too grand to be ignored. Maybe he walked wrong, talked wrong, acted wrong. Not like everyone else, who had their whole lives to learn to do those things. And why was that, if not for there being something _wrong_ with him, something inhuman? Something so far off, that everyone could see it in an instant?

"I… I felt that way, too, when I first saw you," Julian quietly admits. It snaps Kamui out of his thoughts, momentarily stilling his hands, and his breath. "It was… odd. Not quite deja vu, or nostalgia, or anything like that. I don't really know how to describe it, but… it passed, eventually."

"Well," Kamui starts, with a trace of a laugh in his tone, "Maybe you were right."

Julian frowns. "About what?"

"Do you remember what you said, during our breakup?"

"I try not to think about any of that," Julian groans, grimacing as he turns back to bury his face into the bedsheets. Comfortingly, Kamui goes back to rubbing up near his shoulders, pressing thumbs into the back of his neck where he was sure the doctor kept most of his tension; leaning over desks all the time, and whatnot.

"You said it felt like you've known me for years. Have you ever considered that maybe you have?"

The suggestion gives Julian considerable pause, his mouth hanging open like he wants to speak, but is too lost to his own thoughts to remember to follow through on that. Eventually, he says, "Is that… possible?"

"No one else remembers me. If you didn't, that would just kinda confirm my theory," Kamui says.

"But, your m—Your _partner_ remembers you. Are you certain you weren't just… maybe more reclusive than you think? Or perhaps everyone—and I apologize for how callous this might sound, but—perhaps they just aren't alive or otherwise around anymore? The plague wasn't all that long ago, a lot of people fled," Julian points out.

"I don't know. I don't even know where I was during the plague. But wherever I was, it wasn't where Asra was. I can't fathom why that would be, though, I—" he pauses, swallowing his words. That was… maybe more than he wanted to reveal right now. Or maybe it was more that he just didn't want to have to think about it right now. "This conversation is really dour, isn't it?"

"Our situation at the moment isn't exactly a walk in the park, my dear," Julian reminds him. The smile he sends Kamui over his shoulder fades away quicker than normal, like it was too much effort to maintain. Kamui could sympathize. This was all too much for him; he wanted to go back to running the shop, learning magic with Asra, window shopping around the red district. Stuff that had a lot less to do with death.

"Since we're here," Julian starts, his speech a bit stilted, like he wasn't quite sure of the words he was using. "Well, you… you know Asra quite well, don't you?"

Kamui blinks slowly down at him, brows drawn together. "Yeah…?"

"You said we could… talk."

"Of course," Kamui readily responds. It takes a lot of willpower not to show how eager he is for wherever this conversation is going. "Anything you want to talk about, I'm here for you, Julian."

At first, Julian merely nods, appearing thoughtful as Kamui continues his massage. His hands were starting to get tired, but he was willing to keep going for quite a while, regardless. Julian's hands, though, were starting to tap anxiously against the bedsheets, producing no sound but proving to be quite a distraction anyway.

"Does he ever talk about me? I mean—you know, just, wondering," Julian says, his words devolving into mumbling the further he goes along. It's almost cute, bringing a small smile to Kamui's face. Sensing a need for comfort, Kamui dries his hands, running one of them through Julian's hair, bottom-to-top, ruffling up his curls.

"He does, sometimes," Kamui says. "It's a bit personal though, I can't just tell you. But if you're worried for what he might think of you, well, it's complicated. In my opinion, I think he likes you, but he's having trouble coming to terms with it."

"He likes me?" Julian repeats, sounding both disbelieving and awestruck. "Wait, what does that mean? That could range anywhere from _tolerates me_ to… well, you know. Although it assuredly _isn't_ that, but well, I digress."

"I don't know. It might be that. Or maybe it isn't. I don't think these kinds of things are very easy for him," Kamui responds. "It's pretty easy for me. But, wanted criminal or not, there wasn't as much of baggage associated with us as there is for you and Asra."

Julian scoffs. "'Baggage' is one word for it, I suppose," he says bitterly. "It's just so hard to tell what he's thinking. Everytime I think I've got him figured out, I'm proven wrong. But, you? I've _never_ seen him act the way he does around you. So carefree and… happy? It felt like everything _we_ had was conditional. One wrong move and everything would fall apart, and he would leave. And I really didn't like it when he would leave."

"You're telling me," Kamui grumbles. The comment has Julian looking up at him in surprise.

"You have experience with this? But he seems so happy with you."

The question has Kamui's hand tensing, stilling its motion through Julian's hair. It's enough to have a silver eye glancing nervously between him and where his hand rested towards the nape of Julian's neck, the thought that he might have said something wrong easy to read in his expression. With his lips pressed tightly together, Kamui takes a deep breath, holding it for a moment or two. His expression goes completely blank as he asks, "Do you think what you had with Asra is worth rekindling?"

The subject change takes Julian by surprise, delaying his response for a moment as he searches Kamui's expression, finding nothing but a perceived annoyance; that was just his face, though. Hopefully Julian knew that by now. "Sometimes… I miss what we used to have," Julian says carefully. "I convinced myself none of it was ever real, just to help myself get over it. But now I'm not so sure, and it's all so… terribly confusing."

He turns his head back around, staring down at the bedsheets. "I keep replaying what he said back at Pasha's cottage over and over in my head, holding it up against what he said when we broke up, if you could even call it that. I don't know which one was the truth. And—you were only there for one of them. What if he was just trying to make himself look good in front of you? He thinks the world of you, surely he doesn't want you to think that he's… well, you know."

"What, a witch who fears commitment?"

"You really committed that one to memory, huh," Julian comments, half amused and half sardonic. Curling one of his arms, he starts idly stroking his own hair. "Sometimes, it really felt like he cared. I think about it so much now, over and over, trying to figure out how everything he did was somehow selfish or just pity. But I don't actually want to think of it that way. I want—I want him to care about me. I mean, I want to think that he used to care."

His voice briefly cracks, just one small, tiny break in his composure. It flips a switch inside Kamui's head, causing him to climb off Julian's back to sit beside him instead.

"Don't backtrack, Jules. I know that's not what you meant," he says. "Come on, baby, turn around. Sit up."

Julian does exactly as he's told, not even trying to hide the downtrodden look on his face as he does so. Without hesitation Kamui crawls into his lap, leaning up to wrap his arms around the man's shoulders, a hand at the back of his head keeping Julian pressed into his shoulder. Julian rests his hands along Kamui's lower back with an overly gentle touch, unsure.

"I can't tell you what he's actually thinking," Kamui says, voice low and soothing, a gentle lullaby. "I can tell you what I see, though, and what I see is someone who's afraid to care. I think what you had terrified him, because he wanted all of it just as much as you did, but felt like he shouldn't." Kamui pauses, running his fingers through Julian's hair, hearing the man sigh, breaths warm against his neck. "You said you didn't throw the trial."

"It's stupid," Julian dismisses. "I could understand it if you don't believe me either."

"Why didn't you throw it? What changed?"

There's a moment of silence before Julian responds, a moment where he burrows in a bit deeper against Kamui's shoulder, wraps his arms around him more firmly. When he eventually speaks, it's quiet, quieter than Kamui felt he should ever sound.

"Because I believed him," Julian says. "He said he could help me. That I didn't have to do any of this. That he would protect me, that both of you would, that things could be simple and I _wanted_ it to be true. Maybe it would have been, if I hadn't screwed it all up, like I always do."

"Don't say that," Kamui chides. "You tried to protect him, it was just an instinct. He did the same for you."

"I don't recall that part," Julian scoffs.

"You wouldn't. You were unconscious." That gets Julian's attention, pulling back to look Kamui in the eye, frowning as he searches for some trace of a lie, an exaggeration, a joke. "Of course you think he doesn't care, you didn't _see_ the way he reacted when you fell. He dropped his weapon and ran to you, held your body like you were _dying_ , begged you to get back up. He was _scared_ , Julian. When the guards came to take you away, he held you closer to him, like he didn't want to give you up. You can interpret all of that however you want, but, to me…"

Scarlet blooms across Julian's face, tinting his ears. Surprise and confusion show through on his face, eye wide and lips parted. His mouth moves soundlessly before biting his lip, gaze averting to several spots around the room, looking almost comically bewildered. "That… that can't be… He was just playing it up for the crowd."

"He was the same afterwards, when it was just the two of us."

"Then he's playing it up in front of you, too. Kamui, he doesn't _like_ me. I've never been anything but a thorn in his side from day one. Just some clingy, overemotional, needy _thing_ he had to put up with, to tolerate so he could go about his job. Everything he ever did was just to pacify me. Which he wouldn't have needed to do at all if I could just handle myself like a normal adult, instead of some clingy child."

Kamui's stomach drops.

_Needy. Overemotional._

"You're not," he says. Something painful clogs his throat, vision blurring as he drops his gaze to where the emerald rests against Julian's neck. "You're not, Julian. You could never be that."

_Broken. Nothing but a burden. He could live his life if it wasn't for you. He never asked for you, but he's stuck with you anyway._

"There's nothing wrong with you," he adds, feeling the sound of his voice breaking throughout all of him, from the clogging of his throat to the pain in his chest, the dull, distant throb in his head.

 _Kamui, you're perfectly fine the way you are_.

Liar— _You don't need me, you won't be ruined without me, nothing will fall apart, you'll move on and travel the world and meet someone else and—_

"Kamui? What's wrong?" Julian asks suddenly, panic evident in his voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I don't know, what did I do? Did I do something wrong?"

The change in tone snaps Kamui back to attention. It's hard to focus with the way his body feels like it's vibrating, and he can't bring himself to lift his head, look Julian in the eye, smile, say that nothing is wrong. In his hesitance, arms wrap around him, apprehensive, like Kamui is a million times more fragile than he lets on. He's a little confused, attempting to pull away, but he feels strangely dizzy and lightheaded, his body resisting the movement.

"You're shaking," Julian says. That would explain why he feels like he's buzzing. He struggles to come up with something humorous to say as a deflection—what was it Julian had said before, something about death and taxes? It doesn't line up properly in his head. Nothing does. It's all just noise, like no matter how much he doesn't want to feel this way right now, he has no choice but to put up with it and let it run its course.

One of Julian's hands raises up to his hair, combing his fingers through it. It's more powerful a gesture than he seems to realize, putting Kamui at ease and helping to keep his mind off other things—things he doesn't want to think about.

"Darling, are you alright?" Julian asks gently, soothingly. It sounds so sweet that it hurts to listen to, makes the pain in Kamui's throat worse with the urge to start crying. Lips pressed tightly together, he takes a deep breath in through his nose, letting it out slowly.

"Sorry," Kamui croaks. A weary smile spreads across his lips, and he forces himself to look up at Julian, to see the look of concern that was held there. "I'm fine."

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't quite believe that," Julian says. "I don't… suppose you want to talk about it? I'm worried something I said might have upset you. I know how you feel about Asra, if I went too far, you can tell me."

Frowning, Kamui blinks up at him, puzzled. Was that what he thought this was about? "You didn't do anything wrong, Julian," he says. "It's just that… I think that, too. All of it."

Julian's brows draw tightly together. He doesn't need to say anything for his thoughts to get across.

"I used to depend on Asra for… everything," Kamui explains. "He had to feed me by hand, like a baby, because I couldn't do it myself. He taught me how to walk, speak, read, do magic— _everything_. And now that I don't need him to do these things for me anymore, he's always travelling. It's like he's thrilled that he can finally live his life, instead of being forced to take care of me all the time. And sometimes it's only a single night before he's leaving town again. It's like he can't stand me anymore, but he's too kind to actually say it."

Shocked by his words, Julian grasps the sides of Kamui's face, urging him to look Julian in the eye. "Kamui, _no_. He doesn't think that. You have to know that he doesn't think that."

"I do," Kamui says, immediately averting his gaze. "Or well, I should. He told me all this stuff about how he couldn't stand to lose me, and it feels like he really cares about me, that I mean a lot to him. But then I remember everything else, how often he leaves, how much he isn't there for me, and I can't fathom how I ever believed him." He leans against one of Julian's hands for comfort. Miserably, he adds, "I just want it to be true."

_I want him to need me, like I need him. Desperately, all the time—every night when there's no one to fall asleep next to, every morning when there's no one to share breakfast with, when the loneliness gets to be too much—does he ever feel that? Is it just me?_

_Is something wrong with me…?_

"It _is_ true," Julian insists. He sighs, leaning forward to press a kiss to Kamui's forehead, between his brows. "I can't speak for him, but whatever it is, I can't imagine it's malicious. For you, he... I'm sure I've said this already, but he adores you." His comment floods Kamui's chest with warmth. The way Julian kisses his cheek, before pulling him back in against his chest, never too forceful with his actions, spreads the warmth even further throughout his body. "To be honest... I'm a bit envious."

Kamui lets out a small, startled laugh. "Of _who?_ "

"Both of you?" Curious, Kamui blinks up at him; Julian's gaze is aimed up towards the ceiling, thoughtful. One of his hands, which rests over Kamui's belt, starts to tap, just enough to be audible. "He never... I mean, you know that I..."

"You like him," Kamui finishes for him. He watches Julian's throat bob before the man responds.

"I wouldn't... say that, specifically."

Frowning, Kamui asks, "Then what would you say?"

The tapping increases, before mellowing out entirely. "Something I shouldn't," Julian says, voice lowered to a near-whisper. His words drift through the space around them like a ghost, lingering; translating easily in Kamui's mind to a very different three word combination. The severity of those words, and Julian's continued silence, prevent Kamui from pursuing the subject. It didn't need to be talked about, anyway. They both understood well enough by now.

After clearing his throat as quietly as possible, Kamui speaks up. "Let's get some sleep, okay? I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted."

"You're welcome to lie down for a nap," Julian says. "I can hold you, if you want, and wake you up when Asra needs you."

Kamui shakes his head, angling himself just so to aim a stern look up at his lover, whose dark circles are even blacker than his leggings. "You need to sleep, too."

"I'm alright, Kamui. I can go a long time without sleeping," Julian insists, tapping two fingers to the front of his throat, above the choker. "My curse makes up for that."

Kamui sighs, crawling over to the edge of the bed and reaching behind him for the ribbon to his collar, tugging it free. "Lay down, Jules," he says. Julian gives him a look, but settles in against the pillows nonetheless.

After stripping out of his shirt and jewelry, Kamui rearranges the pillows, coaxing Julian to sit up a bit so he can give him more cushioning. "Comfortable?" he asks, staring down at the doctor, whose expression, at the very least, looks distinctly tense. However, he manages a rather unconvincing nod, and, sensing that there's nothing actually wrong with the pillows, Kamui bends down to capture Julian's lips in a kiss. The contact coaxes a startled sound out of Julian's throat.

Pulling away briefly to wet his lips, Kamui dives back in, again and again, until Julian forgets his hesitation, enthusiastically reciprocating. Pale hands grasp at Kamui's shoulders, lightly tugging him even closer, so Kamui settles down over the top of him, relishing in the skin-to-skin contact. The feeling of Julian's chest hair tickling his skin was odd, but not unwelcome.

Their kissing hardly lasts all that long before Kamui pulls away. The look on Julian's face is nothing short of dazed, eyes cloudy and unfocused, lips lightly glistening. It's all very enticing, but Kamui finds a way to restrain himself, nuzzling into the crook of Julian's neck and shoulder.

"Please sleep, Julian," Kamui mumbles. It's difficult to keep his eyes open, so he doesn't, listening for the sound of Julian's voice, coming first in the form of a breathless chuckle.

"I'll… make an effort," Julian mumbles, sounding just as dizzy as he'd looked.

"Good…" comes the drowsy sound of Kamui's voice as he drifts off to sleep. He can swear he hears Julian say something before he does, but it's impossible to make out; maybe he imagined it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are always appreciated… even if they're just silly memes I live for the commentary


	12. The Hanged Man - Part II

A knock at the bedroom door pulls Kamui from the realm of dreams, blinking away sleep as he adjusts to the waking world. All he can remember of his dream is sitting in a dark room, staring down into the beak of a plague doctor's mask, finding nothing but darkness inside. Continuously, for what must have been hours. With a sigh he wills himself to forget the strange, cryptic dream.

Not that his other dreams were much less strange or cryptic.

Easing out of Julian's arms, he finds the doctor fast asleep, unbothered by the movement, or the noise. The sight brings a smile to Kamui's face. Turning, he drowsily seaches for his shirt, finding a pile of white silk on the floor and tugging it on over his shoulders without thinking about it too deeply.

Portia's on the other side of the door when he pulls it open, looking a touch harried, like she'd ran the entire way here. "Oh, good, you're awake," she says, heaving a sigh of relief. She goes to say something else, but is momentarily distracted glancing down towards Kamui's chest, barely concealing a goofy grin. Her voice is a bit teasing as she asks, "So, I take it Ilya's with you? Is he decent?"

Sparing a glance over his shoulder, Kamui sees Julian, in nothing but his leggings, just beginning to stir at the sound of people talking nearby. At some point, his eyepatch been removed, and he rubs the sleep out of both eyes, looking to the empty space next to him with a bit of confusion, before seeing Kamui stood by the door.

"Uh, close enough," Kamui responds after turning back to face Portia.

"Well, Asra said the spell's ready, so you should get down there as soon as possible."

"What? Already?" Kamui asks, eyes widening with surprise. _He did the whole thing himself…?_ After this is all said and done, he'd have to do something for him as thanks. "We'll be out in a minute. Thanks, Portia."

"Of course," she says, before dismissing herself down the hallway.

Turning back into the room, he finds Julian sitting up, already looking much more alert than he did moments before. One of his brows raises as Kamui steps over towards the bed, silver eyes never once leaving his frame as Julian rises to sitting position.

"Well, now this is a look," he purrs, his hands finding their way to Kamui's hips as he stops in front of the bed. Looking down, Kamui finally realizes his mistake; the pale silk of Julian's blouse hung off him as almost comcially oversized. The cuffs were just tight enough to rest where they were meant to be, but that was about it.

With a playful smirk, Kamui adjusts the fabric, buttoning it up past the navel and tucking half of it into his leggings. Julian's pale hands lower to graze over his thighs as Kamui poses, ankles crossed and hands on his hips. "Well, what do you think?" he asks, angling his head at an angle that  _screamed_ 'cocky bastard'. It coaxes a chuckle out of Julian.

"Very handsome," Julian says, hands roaming up Kamui's thighs before he leans in, pressing his lips to Kamui's abdomen. Kisses trail up to the space in the center of his chest, Julian's hands rising with them until they're pressed up against Kamui's mid-back, pulling him ever-so-slightly forward. Giggling at the slightly ticklish feeling of lips brushing over his ribs, he rests his hands on Julian's shoulders, leaning into him. After Julian's done kissing, he nuzzles in, arms wrapped around him as Kamui laughs some more.

Squeezing him, Kamui says, "I like it when you're like this." 

Julian tilts his head to look up at Kamui, his playful look absent and something more apprehensive in its place, for a reason Kamui can't quite place. "Like what?" Julian asks.

"You know. Cuddly?" A little confused by Julian's reaction, he loosens his hold around the doctor's shoulders, leaning back a bit. In return, Julian pulls away, matching Kamui's distance.

"You do?" He sounds so perplexed by the concept that Kamui can't help but frown.

"Uh, yeah? Have you met me? I love cuddling." The response seems to throw Julian off a bit, confusing Kamui even further. "Are you good, Jules?"

"Yes! Fine. I just—Fine," Julian croaks, quickly clearing his throat and awkwardly easing away from Kamui, who takes a step back in response. The doctor's face is bright red. While Kamui tilts his head questioningly at him, he avoids eye contact, silver irises darting around the room in search of a distraction. They eventually land on his boots, and he says, "Ah, let's get dressed, shall we? Duty calls, after all."

"Sure," Kamui drawls.

 

 

At the fountain, they find Asra and a much larger man in a cloak sorting bizarre ingredients into small bowls throughout the multi-layered circle. The click of multiple pairs of heels down the palace steps alerts Asra of their presence, amethyst eyes landing on Kamui right away.

"You're just in time," he says, as the two grow nearer to the spell. "There's just one more thing we need to do, if we want this to work as well as possible."

"Let me guess," Julian starts, eyes lidding.

"I need your blood," Asra finishes for him. Ignoring the comically exaggerated _I-told-you-so_ look Julian gives Kamui, Asra pulls a curved dagger out from somewhere under his vest, expertly twirling it to brandish it blade-up, holding his other hand out expectantly. Pulling off a glove, Julian places his hand in Asra's, palm up.

Without hesitation, Asra carves a decently thick line into Julian's flesh; Kamui stares at Julian's face, noting the way he was biting his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, face turning progressively redder as the cut grows longer. Asra angles Julian's hand over the top of the fountain, not being the slightest bit gentle in tugging the man around, and lets his blood stain the water. The circles surrounding the fountain light up, brighter and brighter as the blood spreads.

"The Countess isn't going to be terribly happy about that," Julian quips, voice rough, as the cut on his hand seals up. Asra magically swipes the rest of the blood off Julian's hand, dropping it into the water.

"It'll fade," he says dismissively, sounding just as distant as the far-off look in his eyes. It was a kind of focus Kamui didn't see very often; paying very little attention to anything other than the spell. Asra cleans his blade before tucking it away to wherever he was hiding it. "I need both of you to get into the water," he says, looking to Kamui and Julian in turn, "And hold hands."

Immediately after receiving nods of assent from them, he turns away, walking to a different part of the spell and speaking to the dark-haired man. Julian exchanges a look with Kamui, questioning, but he merely shrugs before leading the doctor over to climb into the fountain with him.

"I hope there's a reason why we're getting into the blood infested water," Julian snarks.

"Don't worry about it, you baby," Kamui teases, reaching up to gently tap Julian's cheek with his hand. "It'll be like a portal. Just keep holding on to me and you'll be fine."

"Right," Julian says, nodding. He stares down at the crimson water at his feet, shifting his weight around as apprehension marrs his features. "Is this entirely safe? There's no consequences, like, one of us might not go through all the way, and then I don't have legs anymore?"

The sound of Asra's scoffing laugh draws Julian's attention, pouting in embarrassment at the magician's reaction. A smirk is aimed in his direction, violet eyes dancing with amusement. "You'll get to keep your very long, beautiful legs, Ilya," he teases.

Julian turns red. "Listen, you don't have to—Wait, ' _beautiful_ legs'? Did I hear that correctly?"

"No, Ilya. You're going mad with blood sickness already, it's making you hear things," Asra says in a blatantly fanciful tone, widening his eyes like someone telling a spooky story around a campfire. For some reason, Julian falls for it, his eyes going wide with shock.

"Is that a side effect? Some weird magic curse?"

"No, Julian," Kamui laughs, wrapping his hand around one of Julian's. "Nothing bad is going to happen. You have at least two experienced magicians here with you, it'll be fine." Perhaps calling himself _experienced_ was a gross exaggeration, but if it put Julian more at ease, then he was willing to brag a bit.

Julian inhales deeply, letting it out in a slow breath. "Right. Okay. If you're sure," he says. With a soft, patient smile, Kamui leans up on his toes, and Julian automatically leans down, meeting him halfway in a kiss. "Thank you, dear."

"We're ready," Asra says, drawing their attention back to him. His brows crease, and he adds, "I need you to sit down in the water."

Kamui doesn't hesitate—having been through the fountain water to reach Asra's gateway before, he was sure his clothes would get out of this perfectly clean and dry. It's only after he sits that Julian follows along, sitting as close as he possibly could by default.

"Kamui," Asra starts, "I'm going to tether you to me, so that if you ever need to get out of there for any reason, you can tug on it and I'll get the both of you out right away. Okay?"

"Okay," Kamui replies, having only an inkling of a clue as to what that actually meant, but he trusts Asra enough to go with it.

He leans on Julian's arm, watching Asra pour his magic into the spell. It makes his hair stand on end, lights dancing in his eyes and painting him in a variety of colors, an almost ethereal glow blending in with the pale tones of his hair. He's focused entirely on the spell, letting his eyes fall closed, lips parting, meditative. Kamui can't help but think that he looks beautiful like this.

He lets his eyes fall shut, and in moments the bottom of the fountain disappears, dunking the two men into the water. They drift slowly downwards through the pool, weightless. While the water lulls Kamui into a deep sense of relaxation, knowing, full well, that he was in no danger with the spell Asra had taught him—it has the opposite effect on Julian, causing his grip on Kamui's hand to tighten to a near-painful extent.

At the sudden turbulence in the water, Kamui opens his eyes, finding Julian desperately struggling to swim to safety, doing little more than tire himself out along the way. Kamui reaches for him, stilling his thrashing. Their eyes meet, Kamui's gaze communicating a sense of safety. With the lanky man in his grasp, he can feel it as Julian goes about as lax as the waters around them, allowing them to drift peacefully to the surface.

Clinging to Julian's front, the man pulls them both up onto a surface of dry, cracked earth. Mist surrounds them, creeping low throughout the area. Julian waves a hand to try and clear it, accomplishing nothing. After getting settled on land, they find themselves perfectly dry, despite the pond they'd just climbed out of.

Julian grasps onto his shoulders, eyes wide with panic. "Are you alright?" he asks, fussing. "Did you inhale any of the water?" A little startled, it takes Kamui a moment to react, placing his hands over Julian's and gently urging them away from his shoulders. In the process, he spots the glowing, white string wrapped around his wrist, a series of colors reflecting off of it. It leads directly behind them into the pool they'd just climbed out of. That would be the tether, then. "I thought you couldn't swim?" Julian asks, drawing Kamui's attention back to him.

"I… can't," Kamui confirms. "I can't believe you remembered that." He shakes his head, refocusing on the task at hand. "It's okay, Jules. I've done all this before, remember? We were never at any threat of drowning."  _I wasn't, anyway._ Placing a hand over Julian's, which immediately draws the doctor's attention to it, he adds, "Don't worry. I'm here to protect you, like a big, strong, beautiful knight."

That gets Julian to laugh, even if only briefly. "'Big' and 'strong', huh?"

"Not contesting 'beautiful'? You flatter me," Kamui purrs, batting his eyelashes up at Julian, who laughs again.

They rise to their feet soon afterwards, scanning their environment. All around them are dark mangrove trees with long, winding roots, sinking into the waters and stretching out in a manner not entirely safe. Kamui follows closely behind as Julian takes curious steps in pretty much every direction, inspecting the trees, the pools, the sky, everything. Red eyes follow him wherever he goes, observing everything almost as curiously as the doctor himself.

"Are we… here?" Julian asks, tugging his hand back from almost-touching a nearby tree, as if it were about to grow teeth and start chomping. Then again, they had no reason to believe it wouldn't. Julian turns, looking to Kamui from over his shoulder. "Did it work?"

Nodding slowly, Kamui says, "I think so." Ducking his head, he looks around, a little unnerved by just how open everything felt. You could see for miles in every direction, without ever finding a single point of interest. "It's kind of… empty, isn't it?"

Squinting, Julian looks around, appearing equally unnerved by Kamui's observation. "We, um. We're going to be able to find our way back out, right?" he asks. "What about that tether Asra was talking about?"

Kamui lifts up his wrist, showing off the string in question. "It's right here," he says. Silver eyes narrow, searching the area around his arm.

"I don't see it? I suppose I'll just have to take your word for it," Julian says, skeptical.

He holds out a hand. A little surprised, Kamui stares at it for a moment, which is apparently long enough for Julian to realize what he's done and start feeling self-conscious about it. Drawing his hand back to his side a little awkwardly, he clears his throat, saying, "Ah, so. I don't suppose you know how to navigate a place like this? Some sort of spell or psychic intuition or…"

"I have no idea," Kamui admits. "Asra took me to one of these places recently, but he seemed to know where he was going. Uh, I think he followed some footprints?" They both look to the ground in unison. It was dry and cracked, despite being surrounded by pools of water. Not a single footprint was visible, not even their own, despite coming out of the water themselves. Lifting his head, he meets Julian's gaze with a smile. "Well, now, aren't you some sort of daring adventurer? Surely you know what to do."

His comment puts a notable degree of confidence to Julian's stance, a grin appearing on his face to match Kamui's. "Well, every direction looks the same, so…" After a quick scan of the area, he turns back to Kamui with a devilish look. Grabbing onto Kamui's hand, he holds it up over his head like a ballet dancer. "Be my compass, will you, dear?"

A surprised, but nonetheless amused laugh parts Kamui's lips, and he returns the playful look, preparing his stance before giving a nod of approval. Julian twirls him, letting go to allow the magician to complete his rotations unguided. He slows to a stop with perfect balance. Julian follows to stand behind him, putting his hands on his shoulders and leaning down to copy where Kamui's eyes are directed. It's silly, but no much more than any of the rest of it.

Giggling, Kamui smiles up at Julian, as he offers up his hand in a gentlemanly fashion. "Shall we, my dear?"

"Of course," Kamui says, taking the offered hand.

They walk forward, eventually coming across an area covered in brambles and vines, making the area appear much more crowded than before. At the sight of them, Julian turns to Kamui, saying something about how they must be going the right way. There's no reason to disagree with that assessment—nothing spoke of horrible danger, not yet anyway.

Suddenly a set of stairs appears in front of them, made of dark, rickety looking wood not too dissimilar to the trees surrounding them on all sides. Julian starts, taking a step back and automatically putting himself halfway in front of Kamui, as if something much more dangerous had sprouted out of the ether. Embarrassed, he mumbles something or other as Kamui steps forward, patting him comfortingly on the arm.

"Is this normal?" Julian asks, staring up the long set of stairs.

"I suppose so. Asra's gateway was a bit like this," Kamui muses. He turns back to Julian, speaking before the doctor can go asking any questions about gateways. "You don't suppose The Hanged Man is up there, do you?"

The question was intended to get Julian springing into action, and based on the way the doctor grins down at him, it works. "Let's find out, shall we?" he asks. Putting one boot up on the steps, he turns toward Kamui, holding their joined hands up between them and saying, "After you, my dear." Kamui chuckles at the gentlemanly image, taking the lead up the steps with Julian following alongside him.

The stairs were just wide enough that they could travel side-by-side, neither fearing the possibility of falling off the sides no matter how high up the steps took them. The trees and brambles nearby seem to stretch higher and higher the farther up they go, never once allowing them a view over the top of the forest. The steps wind around and through the area in nonsensical directions; neither of them ever so much as look down, more focused on each other.

Julian takes two steps at a time, walking backwards so he can be face-to-face with Kamui. It looked quite a bit like he was showing off, but Kamui decides to keep that observation to himself, smiling up at him in amusement instead.

"Well, isn't this exciting," he says. "Quite the romantic setting, don't you think?"

Kamui chuckles. "Nice place for a picnic. With some candles, a soft black blanket, some seafood…"

The suggestion has Julian swooning up the stairs. "Oh, you're delightful, you know that?" With a low, flirtatious giggle, Kamui skips forward a step, bringing himself closer to Julian as they ascend the seemingly never ending staircase.

"Tell me more."

Julian chuckles, grinning wide as he says, "Oh, how I could count the ways—" right before tripping backwards over the end of the staircase, toppling before he can manage to right himself. With Kamui attached to his hand, they both end up falling before either of them can so much as realize what's happening. Instinctively, Julian reaches for Kamui, pulling him tight against his chest to protect him when they land; which doesn't quite happen, not how they expected, anyway.

Tangled up in vines, their descent slows until they're suspended several feet off the ground. It feels like lying in a hammock, while also being tied up in said hammock, cocooned with very little wiggle room.

"Kamui, are you alright?" Julian asks. In response, Kamui experimentally twists and turns, finding it next-to impossible to move the majority of his body. It's hard to tell where the plants even begin or end; Kamui can't even see the tether attached to his wrist, much less make an attempt to pull it with his arms trapped in their current position. "Are you hurt? Can you feel your—"

"I'm fine, _mom_ ," Kamui snarks, just a little biting under all the sarcasm. He shifts, struggling to move his arms but making very little progress, really not doing much more than exhausting himself. After awhile he manages to move his legs, but they end up just as tangled in Julian's as they are in the vines, as if more and more have been appearing. It, perhaps, doesn't help that Julian's attempting the same, but with even less conviction, like he's too afraid of hurting Kamui by accident. "Well, this is brilliant," Kamui deadpans, hearing Julian let out a scoffing laugh beneath him. 

The vines tighten around his back, pressing him ever-tighter against Julian's chest, which swells as, presumably, the same thing is happening on the other side of him. It's difficult to think through what the solution to this is, or to focus enough to use his magic to, say, set all the vines on fire and hope for the best. Difficult, with the way Julian's body is pressed tightly against him, leaving very little to the imagination. Difficult, with the way the vines squeeze his limbs, his back, curling up a little too high along his legs, the press of it along his inner thigh distractingly alluring; it's really difficult to think clearly at all.

But then Julian shifts, and so do the vines, and suddenly there's way too much friction along a very sensitive area, and he lets out an entirely-too-sexual gasp. Feeling heat flood his face—and quite a few other parts of him—he scrambles to devise some sort of excuse for the sound he just made, something to say before Julian can get a chance to.

"I have a confession to make," Kamui blurts out in a rush.

"I think I can feel your confession against my leg," Julian quips. The only response he gets to that is a noise somewhere between a groan, a sigh, and a dying animal.

Peering upwards, Kamui can see Julian tugging at his wrists, which are restricted by a set of vines pulling them up over his shoulders at odd angles. Despite that, or perhaps _because of_ that, there's a deep blush on Julian's face, leading all the way down his chest. There's a particular way in which he moves—like he's testing the strength of the vines keeping him held in place, revelling in the way they tighten as he struggles, eyes clouded and unfocused.

"I'd like this a lot more if there were at least one other person here capable of free movement," Julian says.

On impulse, Kamui attempts to move his hips, feeling the pleasurable glide of his clothed erection over Julian's thigh; or what he assumed was his thigh, anyway. With a blissful sigh, he lays his head down on Julian's lightly furry chest, saying, "I can do _that_."

" _Oh_. You're, um. Having fun, I see," Julian says, gasping as Kamui does it _again_ , long and drawn out. "Th-That's, um… Ohhh…"

Kamui can just barely feel Julian squirming beneath him; a rough jerk of his hips that accomplishes very little, with the way the vines tighten around his body. Which Kamui isn't entirely opposed to. The outline of his smirk can likely be felt against Julian's skin, along with his quickened breaths as he keeps moving his hips.

Tucking his face in against Julian's chest, he inhales deeply, catching the scent of leather and seasalt, of iron and a bit of sweat. He wouldn't admit how much it turned him on. Although it was likely obvious, anyway, based on the sigh he releases afterwards, the stuttering of his hips. The low heat in the swamp-like realm is making him a bit dizzy, too.

After awhile, he can feel something brush up against his hip, the haze of his lust-filled mind too much to recognize what it is, at first. It isn't until he hears Julian gasp that he figures it out.

"Oh. Hello," Kamui breathes, grinning. On instinct, he tries to reach for the long, hard shape rubbing up against him, finding the motion shockingly easy to complete, aside from the lingering exhaustion of his earlier attempts to break free. The reason why feels so incredibly unimportant. He's more concerned with getting his hand on Julian's cock as soon as possible, slipping a hand inside his leggings to do just that. He's rewarded with a very pronounced moan from Julian, like music to his ears. The whimpers he makes as Kamui refuses to move again afterwards are even more delightful.

"Take it, sweet boy," Kamui purrs, right nearby Julian's ear, feeling him start to twist his hips, desperate for more contact. His reach isn't very far, making it unbearably hard to get what he wants, but that doesn't spur Kamui into action. The frustrating nature of his lover's arousal is far too titillating to pass up.

Whispering praises in Julian's ear, he relents, gliding his hand along the doctor's shaft. His hips still as he does so, like he wasn't sure if he was _allowed_ to move anymore; although the attempted arch of his lower back to get as much out of Kamui's movements as possible apparently wasn't out of the question. Kamui wonders if he's even aware of it.

The tightness around his limbs starts to ease up, and Kamui uses it to his advantage as soon as he's noticed it, dragging his leggings down around his hips along with Julian's. Shifting his position, he replaces the hand around Julian's length with his dick instead, grinding down against him. The sound of Julian's voice borders on obscene as he struggles to reach for Kamui, only to have the vines tighten around his arms, refusing to let go.

Kamui leans back, taking in the sight of his lover, tied tight enough to bruise with his skin more pink than white, eyes unfocused but pleading. There's drool dribbling down his chin, a vine wrapped across his face at just the right angle to make it difficult to close his mouth. It pulls his head back, baring his neck. With a shuddering sigh Kamui dives in, sinking his teeth into the pale line of Julian's neck, drawing blood. A shiver wracks Julian's body, voice growing even louder as his hips stutter, or try to.

It's only a moment later that Julian cums very unexpectedly, arching his back with such a force that it might as well have snapped any of the vines keeping him held in place. Kamui pulls away quickly, a tiny bit of blood dripping down his chin. Listening to the melodic sound of his voice, crying out in pleasure, Kamui stares directly down at his dick as it spills out all over his waist. The sight of it pushes Kamui over the edge too, bringing him back in against Julian's neck to muffle the sound with another harsh bite.

Like some curse being broken, the vines gently lower them to the ground, falling away like limp noodles; it's only then that Kamui realizes absolutely none of them had been wrapped around him. It was just Julian, pinning him and spreading his thighs apart. There was no innocent explanation for that, but Kamui would question the sexuality of the arcana realms some other time.

Flopping down beside Julian, they both take the time to catch their breaths. Julian remains in a daze, leaning eagerly against every touch as Kamui checks them over for rope burns or potential clothing tears, finding a lot of the former but none of the latter. The sight of the purpling skin on Julian's body concerns him, but he dismisses it; he was sure it would disappear soon enough. Spotting a nearby pool of misty water, Kamui uses his magic to clean the mess they'd made, before settling in beside him, pulling the man's head into his lap. Blurry silver eyes peer up at him through dark lashes, questioning. Kamui isn't sure what to say, so he combs his fingers through Julian's curls, dragging gently over his scalp. It seems to have a positive effect, as Julian slowly edges in closer, curling up around him.

Kamui lifts one of Julian's hands up to his face, kissing the back of his hand. "Good boy," he whispers, feeling Julian shiver. "Are you alright? You know, as much as I'd love to cuddle you, we can't do that right now."

Nodding slowly, Julian pushes to a sitting position, appearing both embarrassed and disappointed. "R-Right. Of course," he says, clearing his throat. "Sorry, I…"

His breath hitches as Kamui reaches forward, grooming him before caressing his face and pulling him in for a kiss. Julian melts, leaning into him with his hands against Kamui's chest. After they part, Julian's cheeks brush over Kamui's, head drooping onto his shoulder, lightly nuzzling. It's cute—Kamui can't resist it, taking a moment to hold him, running fingers through his hair. Once he feels it's been enough time, he gently urges him back, meeting Julian's feverish look with a soft smile.

Taking Julian's hand, he rises to his feet, helping Julian up after him. The man gravitates towards him, watching him with a look bordering on suggestive. But before they can start walking again, Kamui tugs on Julian's arm. Like it was second nature, Julian bends, earning him a kiss on the cheek.

"You did really well, Julian," Kamui purrs, speaking low and sensual, breaths hot against his lover's flushed cheeks. "Good boy."

The way Julian _shudders_ at that has Kamui smiling when he pulls away.

Just as before, they continue wandering aimlessly. Every direction looks exactly the same, and not just in a we're-walking-in-a-circle sort of way. The only changes to the environment occur chaotically, seemingly random and out-of-place items appearing and disappearing before their very eyes. It's often just out of their direct line of sight, at such an inconsistent and slow rate that they often find themselves second guessing what they _think_ they see.

"When you and Asra were here," Julian starts.

"Not here specifically, but go on."

"Did it take you this long to find… someone?"

"It was hardly five minutes," Kamui responds. After a slight pause, he turns away from their environment to look up at Julian, catching anxiety marring his features. He gives the man's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Asra _did_ say he's always had trouble contacting The Hanged Man. Maybe we're going about this all wrong; Asra tracked down The Magician by following their footprints in the sand. Maybe The Hanged Man doesn't need to be tracked down, so much as summoned? Or… impressed, or attracted?"

Julian scoffs. "If the little show we put on earlier wasn't enough for him, I don't know what will be," he snarks.

Something dark in the distance catches their attention, suddenly; a shadow in the foliage, somehow an even harsher black than the bark of the mangrove trees. At once, they halt, eyes directed at the darkness, eventually making out crimson rope, tight beneath a coat of feathers. Neither of them can take their eyes off of it, excitement and something like trepidation building. Julian squeezes Kamui's hand to get his attention.

"Th-That's...?" he trails off, having no need to finish his statement. They turn towards each other, eyes wide, before taking off in the direction of their target.

But they don't make it a single step. Kamui's foot gets caught on something, his gaze whipping down to the ground at his feet. No longer was it the dry, cracked earth he was used to. Instead, it was thick and creamy, like clay, the heels of his boots sinking in past the surface. Looking to Julian reveals much the same issue, although he appears to have tripped in the process, getting the full length of his lower legs and one of his hands stuck against the ground.

"Wait, hold on, I can—" Julian says, searching wildly about their environment before locating a nearby vine. "Hold on tight, Kamui," he instructs, but Kamui's intuition is warning him heavily against complying, remaining stationary as Julian struggles to free his hand. With a grand amount of effort, he tears it free; Kamui winces at the sight of his skin ripping off like strips of fabric, a shudder wracking his body. Julian doesn't even seem to notice, or care, reaching for the vine and pulling. 

However, it pulls towards them instead of the other way around, like an unfurling rope, despite how taut it appeared beforehand. Panicking a bit, Julian quickens his movements, pulling enough of the vine for it to actually coil up on the ground beneath them. All the while, blood is dripping down his wrist and staining the vine.

"Julian, stop!" Kamui exclaims, a warning in his tone that has Julian halting his movements immediately. His chest heaves more from stress than exhaustion. In the center of his throat, his mark flares, its glow weak against the oppressive red lighting of the realm around them. It remains, like a tattoo, yet Kamui can still see the harsh scrapes and tears along Julian's palm, eyes widening in fear. "Your mark isn't working!"

"That doesn't matter!" Julian dismisses, Kamui's eyes snapping back to him in shock. Focusing on Kamui just long enough to notice how far down he's sunk, the ground rapidly sucking him under its depths, he continues searching for a way out. It gives Kamui a sense of deja vu, before it hits him; the panic in those silver eyes, the thrashing. "I can save you, just hold on!"

"No!" Kamui shouts back, startling Julian enough to have him losing his balance, even more of him getting trapped beneath the bog. Throwing out an arm, he grabs onto Julian's bicep, hard, reserving his other hand for the tether around his wrist. Despite the ever-encroaching terror of their situation, Kamui remains steadfast, brows furrowed with determination while Julian stares at him in shock. "Julian, stop!"

"You'll drown!" Kamui attempts to shake his head, only to find himself unable to move at all. The look of horror on Julian's face as he's pulled under sticks with him, the sand suffocatingly tight around his skull as he tugs on the tether. His stomach lurches with the feeling of being pulled in multiple directions, before he finds himself falling.

 

 

His senses return to him with stunning clarity, tuning into the sounds of crickets and the feel of cool early morning air on his skin, light and unhindered by vines or bogs or whatever else. The pastels of dawn hang in the sky overhead, which is all he can see for several long, dizzying moments. There's grass beneath him, as opposed to dirty fountain water, his body dry, yet practically chilled to the bone. A warm hand brushes his bangs aside, and he blinks, finding Asra hovering over him. Looking to his left, he finds Julian laid in the grass before the fountain, trembling but awake.

Pushing up into a sitting position, Kamui flops against Asra, limp. " _Asra_ ," he whispers, feeling the magician tense before arms wrap around him, enveloping him.

"It went badly, I presume," Asra says, dread poisoning the airy nature of his voice.

"I think I hate The Hanged Man's realm," Kamui says, tone flat and deep to properly convey his state of shock, the lingering remnants of fear. He can still feel it, closing around his head, threatening to crush him, suffocating him, hot and tight.

"I thought you'd like it. For the aesthetics, if nothing else."

"I _did_ , but then the ground tried to eat me, so it's not exactly my ideal vacation destination."

"Oh. Yeah, that does happen… I should have warned you. Although, if I had, we might have been here going over all the potential dangers for hours. The Hanged Man's realm is unpredictable and hard to manage," Asra says.

There's a warmth at Kamui's back, suddenly, and he turns his head, finding Julian sitting nearby, a hand against his back. He looks haggard, free hand fisted at his side just to hide the way it quivers, like the one on Kamui's spine. Without a word, Kamui swaps from Asra over to Julian, wrapping the doctor up in his arms. It takes barely a second before the embrace is returned with a certain degree of desperation, Julian's head tucking in against Kamui's.

After a few moments pass, Kamui can feel Asra curl up behind him, leaning his head on the nape of his neck and wrapping his arms around his waist. Kamui turns his head slightly in an attempt to get a look at the magician, but can't quite manage to make out much more than the bold red of his borrowed shawl. "It was that bad?" he asks quietly. Kamui makes a noise, immediately regretting having expressed his distress at all; around Julian, that is. The doctor's arms shift, adjusting his hold.

"I'm sorry, Kamui. I should have tried harder," Julian says. "You shouldn't have had to—"

"Stop," Kamui commands, his tone just hard enough to still Julian entirely. "None of this was your fault."

"It's okay," Asra adds before Julian can protest, much to Kamui's surprise. "We'll figure something else out."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but," Julian starts, "There really isn't any other plan B here."

"Dying isn't much of a plan B," Asra says sharply. "I've been thinking about this, while you were away. If you regained some of your memories in the dungeon—"

"There's nothing more to find down there," Julian says stridently. "And even if there was, to be quite honest with you, dying is preferable to going back down there."

Before Asra can say anything else, Kamui speaks up. "Asra, there are beetles down there," he says, pulling back to face his partner, seeing the look of surprise that flits across his face. "Honestly, I feel like the entire place should be burned down."

"I can't possibly agree more," Julian says.

Shaking his head, Asra leans back, with Kamui doing the same. "You're looking for the plague cure, aren't you? What if your curse is the cure?"

Julian raises a brow. "You think I, the most wanted man in all of Vesuvia, somehow cured thousands by hand overnight?"

"No, but whatever you bargained with The Hanged Man for could have been the cure. It doesn't have to be a physical object, or a recipe, it could have just been cured miraculously."

"Not likely," Julian dismisses. "There's something you're forgetting. Murderer or not, I still went to the Count's wing. What reason do you think I had for that?"

"You were his… physician," Asra trails off, sounding significantly less sure of himself. "I don't know."

"Asra," Julian says, stern. "I came to Vesuvia looking for answers—"

"And you're not leaving until you get them, I know," Asra says, frustrated. "There has to be some answer other than death."

Julian frowns. "You're… awfully invested in this," he drawls. The observation has Asra's eyes widening, ducking his head and looking out at the courtyard rather than attempt to maintain eye contact.

"I…" he tries, turning to Kamui, distant, looking _at_ him like he were a statue, and not a person who was looking back. Their group hug had broken entirely by now, Kamui sitting between and to the side of them, leaving his two lovers directed at one another. One of Julian's hands was resting on Kamui's back, like it belonged there, the other in the grass. Asra stares down at that other hand, an internal debate playing out behind his eyes. Kamui remains perfectly still, eyes wide with realization and afraid to break whatever was going on in Asra's head.

A lightly trembling, tawny hand reaches out, just barely grazing Julian's wrist before Asra says, "Ilya, I…"

"Ilya, you're awake!"

At the sound of Portia's voice calling down from atop the palace balcony, Asra startles, pulling his hand back immediately. He turns fully away, in Kamui's direction. It takes Julian much longer, his eyes stuck on the magician, round with realization and longing, but as his sister grows nearer, he manages to tear his gaze away.

"Pasha," he says. "What are you doing up this late?"

"What do you _think_! I was waiting for you," she exclaims, stopping not far from the trio as Julian rises to his feet. The man spares a glance over his shoulder, eyes directed at where Asra is now standing, side by side with Kamui, facing away. "Well? Did it work? I saw the spell but I don't know what happened."

"Ah… How about we go sit down somewhere to talk?" Julian suggests, placing his hands on his sister's shoulders and urging her to turn and walk forward in the opposite direction. She doesn't try to stop him, merely getting fussy over his 'manhandling' before barraging him with questions on their way towards the palace stairs.

Once they're out of earshot, Kamui sags, letting go of a held breath. Breaking the news to Portia wasn't going to be pretty. Something about her gave Kamui the distinct impression there might be some yelling, and he didn't want to get involved in that one bit.

Redirecting his attention back to Asra, he lays his hands on the magician's shoulders, urging him into a bit of a side hug. Asra buries his face into Kamui's shoulder right away, sagging against him. Sensing the need for comfort, Kamui threads his hand into Asra's hair, standing up on the tips of his toes to more easily pull Asra in against his chest, where he could listen to the sound of his heart beating. That works even more than Kamui expected it to, drawing forth a soft sigh as Asra wraps his arms around Kamui's upper back. He keeps his hand in Asra's curls, gently stroking nails over his scalp.

"I'm proud of you, Asra," Kamui whispers. There's a gentle, humming noise from the magician below him, something questioning, so he elaborates. "You've done a lot tonight. Not just the spell, either. I know this is hard for you and I'm proud of you for trying, even if you were interrupted. I think he knows what you meant to say, anyway."

"It still has to be said," Asra says, mumbling slightly.

Kamui's soft smile grows even brighter, at that. "I'm proud of you, baby." To his surprise, Asra shivers, and for a moment Kamui considers that his lover might be a bit too cold—but he always ran warm, and he was still covered in Kamui's shawl, his _wool_ shawl. It occurs to him what it might actually be a bit late, but still he teasingly says, "Do you like it when I call you that?"

It takes a few moments before Asra lets out a barely audible sigh. Rather than respond verbally, though, he rises up, surprising Kamui with a sudden, and rather forceful kiss, hands tight on either side of his neck. It sends a jolt of electricity through his body that has him melting into the kiss, lowering back down onto his feet proper. It feels like Asra towers over him a lot more than he actually does. It's surprising how much the thought appeals to him, when otherwise he might not be quite so fond of his height.

Asra pulls away, but not without another kiss to the side of Kamui's face, a hand on the opposite side which Kamui feels pressed into with the force of Asra's kiss. He loves it—and there's no doubt in his mind that's exactly why Asra is doing it.

"You're spoiling me," Kamui playfully accuses.

"Me? _You're_ spoiling _me_ ," Asra argues. "I can't get enough of you, you know that? I don't think I could ever have enough."

Tightening his hold on Asra's back, Kamui says, "You could keep trying. You'll see no objections from me…"

With a tender smile, Asra leans back in, the press of his lips delightfully soft and warm against Kamui's much thinner lips. He tastes of the dessert they were serving at dinner, some kind of dark cake covered in raspberries. Out of breath, they pull away, Kamui leaning against Asra's forehead, breaths intermingling before Asra inevitably moves on, idly trailing kisses along Kamui's face.

Upon catching his breath, Kamui says, "You taste amazing."

"I feel like I should be the one saying that," Asra purrs, sending a shiver down Kamui's spine. "I probably taste like the truffle cake from dinner. I'm surprised you didn't have any."

"I was—" Asra cuts him off with a kiss, pressing their lips tightly together as if he was really trying to give him a good feel for the cake's taste. "…Distracted…" He sighs pleasurably into Asra's mouth, a warm tongue gliding over his, tasting so strongly of the cake that Kamui was having doubts that he hadn't had more recently. Maybe he requested it. The details hardly mattered, with Asra's tongue in his mouth.

Eventually Asra moves to his neck, teeth digging into his skin as a mark is sucked into it. Suppressing the noise that wants to escape from his mouth, Kamui glances around the area, finding neither Devorak anywhere in the vicinity. "N-Not complaining, but, where is this coming from?" he asks. A kiss is pressed over the freshly bloomed mark, soothing the sting.

"Implying that I'm not _always_ overcome with the desire to do things to you," Asra responds, speaking lowly and salaciously as he picks another perfectly unblemished spot to sink his teeth into. The sound Kamui makes at that is a bit more audible.

With a shuddering breath, Kamui asks, "This is a bad time and place, but I really want to know _what_ things you're thinking of."

Pulling back, Asra chuckles, saying, "I'm not surprised. Maybe we can discuss it later, when everything has settled down a little bit."

"I'm holding you to that. In the meantime, though…" Kamui flutters his eyelashes, looking sweetly up at Asra, who returns the look with a knowing grin. "Kiss me more?"

"How can I deny such a cute face," Asra purrs, leaning back in to press their lips together, although they're both smiling too much for it to work properly, at first. They quickly settle back into it, arms wrapped tightly around each other.

" _Hel-lo!_ " comes the mischievous sound of Portia's voice from somewhere nearby. The sound startles the two magicians enough that their teeth clack together, pulling away from each other with a start. They turn to find her, alongside her brother, up on the balcony leading into the palace. "Are we interrupting something?"

Asra turns bright red, bashfully looking away from her, while Kamui loudly calls back, "Yes!"

Heading upstairs to meet with them, Kamui takes the chance to observe their body language, searching for any sign of how their conversation had gone. Julian appears a bit tense, although that wasn't entirely unusual for him. Portia, however, looks more tired than Kamui has ever seen her. A combination of a lack of sleep, stress, and a possible argument with her brother were all clearly weighing down on her.

"Everything okay?" Kamui cautiously asks.

Portia sighs, sagging a bit out of annoyance. "Define 'okay'," she says.

Right. Message received.

"I told you, Pasha, I'll be perfectly fine," Julian insists. No doubt this was something he's already repeated ad infinitum over the last ten or so minutes. "After this is all over—"

"I swear to god, if you say ' _we'll all look back on this and laugh_ '," Portia deadpans. Her tone has Julian wilting. The glare she aims his way starts to soften, rapidly turning more distressed, instead. "You can't seriously be considering this. I mean, Asra said we can fake it, right? This can't possibly be so important that we can't just fake it."

"Pasha, please," Julian pleads.

"Why can't you just fake the hanging and try the spell again later?"

"We _just_ went over this," Julian groans.

"Portia," Kamui starts, drawing the increasingly distressed ginger's attention over to him. "It'll be alright. Hey, why don't you two head back to the cottage? Hang out for a little bit? Jules can come back to visit us after you fall asleep."

"But—" Portia starts.

"That's a good idea," Julian says. "Let's just try to relax. Or you can spend hours yelling at me until you pass out, whichever you prefer. I'm sure Pepi misses you."

With a frustrated sigh, Portia relents. "Fine. But if something actually bad happens to you tomorrow, I'm going on the warpath. Your spirit will never know peace."

After saying goodbye to the siblings, they head off into the courtyard, disappearing inside the foliage. Once they're out of earshot, Kamui turns to Asra, who is leaning back against the railing. "I bought you some time," Kamui says. Asra just nods numbly, staring down at the floor for a moment before raising his head with a smile.

"So we're alone for the next hour or so, then," he says, lips curling mischievously. "You know what I'm thinking?"

"Cake?"

"You know me so well," Asra purrs, delight sparkling in his eyes.

 

 

The truffle cake, as it turns out, is one of the most brilliant things Kamui has ever tasted, and he may or may not have made himself slightly sick on it. It's remedied fairly easily with a combination of Asra's magic and chewing on a few herbs he carries around with him for some reason, but it still keeps Kamui from eating anymore of it.

Changed back into the sleepwear from before, the two magicians sprawl out on the bed, with Kamui leaning back against the wall, feet dangling over the edge. Asra curls up like a cat, his head in Kamui's lap. Pale fingers idly stroke through messy white curls, Faust coiling up not far from it, relishing in the soft nest of hair.

Asra's breaths even out in seconds, lost to sleep at an impressive rate. Spacing out, Kamui does his best to continue petting his slumbering partner in languid, repetitive motions, hoping not to disturb him. It wasn't very likely to happen either way; Asra slept like the dead, almost like he was capable of picking and choosing when he wanted to wake up, what reasons he found good enough.

It made Kamui a bit envious. His sleep was always so distraught, for one reason or another; trouble falling asleep and staying asleep, with most of his dreams much closer to nightmares.

He wonders what Asra dreamt about. Good things, he hopes. It had been years since the magician had sleep troubles; leaving him shaking or crying in his sleep, for reasons Kamui still wasn't quite aware of. He could guess, sure. The plague, perhaps, or any number of things Kamui never knew about. No matter the reason, it didn't affect him anymore, at least… not that he ever saw.

Which… worried him. Could it be that he still had them, but was never around for Kamui to find out? Was he trying to hide it in fear of worrying Kamui with his disturbed sleeping patterns? He hoped none of it was true. Asra didn't deserve anything less than perfectly peaceful, restful sleep.

As he continues on thinking about that, alongside other topics, both bad and good, the time passes surprisingly quickly. Once Kamui starts to recognize the passage of time, the handle to the guest chamber door rattles, slowly opening to admit Julian. He's got his gaze averted, like he might find something he shouldn't see on the inside. He quickly figures out that nothing lurid is happening, and steps fully inside, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Without a word, so as not to rouse the room's slumbering inhabitant, Julian strips off his gloves and boots, leaving them on a nearby chair with the rest of his things. He climbs onto the bed as softly and unobtrusively as he can, making it over next to Kamui without alerting Asra of his presence. He has to bend his legs over the top of Asra's body to do so, but it works.

Julian leans his head over the top of Kamui's, sending a warm, fluttery feeling through his chest. For awhile, they remain there in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence. Their hands find each other, tangling their fingers together atop Kamui's thigh, with Julian's thumb gently caressing his hand.

"You'll be fine," Kamui whispers, so softly, he's not even sure if Julian heard it.

"Of course. How could I possibly leave this behind?" he asks, more-or-less matching Kamui's volume, his smile audible in his voice. "The two of you… well, the three of you, I suppose. Although _she_ might take some getting used to."

"Glad to hear it," Kamui says, smiling. It quickly fades, as he adds, "I'm sorry I doubted you, at the coliseum."

"It's alright, my dear. I understand. I wasn't exactly making things easy for you."

Exhausted, Kamui merely nods in response.

"I don't suppose you'll be joining him, soon?" Julian asks, gesturing slightly with their joined hands towards where Asra slept on the bed nearby.

"Soon," Kamui replies. "I wanted to be up to see you, first. I don't have to worry about oversleeping; Portia will be here to wake us in time for the hanging, anyway."

Julian winces. "You're… attending? Not that I can stop you, of course, you're free to make your own decisions, but…"

"But you don't like it," Kamui concludes.

A few moments pass in silence, before Julian says, "I just don't want the sight _or_ the sound haunting you in your nightmares. Especially if I don't… you know."

"Well… what's one more thing to torture me in my sleep? Just add it to the pile," Kamui deadpans. That has Julian's hand tightening around his, stiff with tension.

"Dear, that's… I wouldn't wish that upon you. I won't have something I've done traumatize you," Julian says, anxiety and dread ebbing out of him in waves, audible in every syllable. "As I've said, I can't, and won't, stop you. Just—Well, you know. I've said my piece."

"I appreciate your concern," Kamui says, giving Julian's hand a reassuring squeeze just to help prove that he means it, that he isn't being sarcastic. "I don't intend to look during… the actual… I won't look. I'll even cover my ears, if it'll make you feel better."

"A lot, yes. Thank you, darling."

"This is a very dreary conversation," comes the mumbling, sleep-addled voice of Asra. Both men turn in his direction, sitting just high enough to see the magician's violet eyes, staring off into the distance.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Julian apologizes, speaking only slightly louder. The atmosphere inside the room, with the pale sky outside, the comfort of the palace bed, and Asra reclining in the center of it made it hard for anyone to want to raise their voice.

There's no response, no denials or ribbing or anything of the sort. Instead, Asra rises slowly and carefully into a sitting position, repositioning Faust onto a nearby pillow and stretching out his limbs. Julian does his best to be as out-of-the-way as possible. Once Asra's finished stretching he flops back against Kamui's chest, sighing drowsily and letting his eyes flutter closed again. Kamui automatically wraps his arms around the magician's middle.

Amethyst eyes open to peer up at Julian. "Are you sleeping with us?" he asks. Julian's eyes widen, looking between both magicians questioningly.

"Ah, is the bed quite big enough for three people?" The fact that that's his first and potentially only concern is reassuring to Kamui, having expected a lot worse.

"I can sleep on top of you," Kamui suggests. It seemed like the ideal solution—like it or not, he was the lightest, and Julian was presently the most comfortable with him.

"Just sleep on your side and it'll work," Asra sleepily mumbles. With no small amount of effort, he pushes back up, leaving Kamui's embrace to find a spot on the edge of the bed to lie down, facing the other two. They quickly get the hint and follow him, careful to avoid where Faust is coiled up on the pillows.

By default they arrange themselves for Julian to lie by the wall, but Asra grabs onto his shirt and yanks him into the middle, burying his face in the man's silk blouse as he turns bright red at the contact. Curled up against his back with an arm draped over him, Asra already appears to be falling asleep, without a care to how stiff Julian has become. Kamui takes a moment to stare at them before curling up on Julian's other side. It was a very tight fit, but seemingly neither magician has any problem getting as close to Julian as possible.

Julian's arms envelope Kamui, one hand resting in his hair. The tawny hand between them quickly finds its way to one of Kamui's, intertwining their fingers together. "Um," Julian stammers, "Not that this isn't nice, and everything, but, why—"

"Don't ruin this, Ilya," Asra murmurs.

There's a period of silence in which Julian struggles to form words, eventually just saying, "Okay."

 

 

There's a knock on their door several hours later, rousing the three of them from sleep. They're all a bit more tangled than they were before, with their legs all mixed together until it's hard to tell whose are whose anymore. Being on the outside of the bed—surprisingly still _in_ the bed, and not toppled over onto the floor, considering how little space he had—Asra is the one to answer it, with the other two rising slowly, well aware of what the visitor was likely there for.

Thankfully the Countess allows Julian to leave with some manner of grace, as opposed to automatically carting him off in chains. He's given a moment to say goodbye, which all of them struggle to be as casual about as they possibly can, to maintain the illusion that it wasn't final.

Wrapped up in Julian's arms, Kamui speaks lowly into his ear. "I expect to see you at the masquerade."

"Of course," Julian says, pulling back with a bit of a doleful smile on his face. He raises Kamui's hand up to his lips, kissing the back of his hand. "I'll be there to escort you," he adds wth a wink. It isn't the most convincing, but Kamui forces himself to believe it, returning the smile.

Meanwhile, Asra stands stiffly off to one side, expression unnaturally blank and body uncomfortably warm, visible in the light flushing of his cheeks. In the end he doesn't say much of anything at all, beyond a very serious command for Julian not to die or he'd have three very angry people coming after his ghost.

Once they're left alone in the room, the two magicians collapse immediately back into bed, saying and doing absolutely nothing for what feels like hours. Asra is faceplanted into the bed, eyes closed, possibly asleep, with one of his legs dangling off the side of it. Head awkwardly stuffed between a chaotic array of pillows, Kamui stares straight up, blank.

Faust slithers between them, checking on the both of them intermittently, saying nothing but occasionally prodding at them with her face, garnering no reaction. Eventually she grows almost frustrated with their lack of life, wrapping herself around Asra's neck and squeezing until he's forced to sit up to try and remove her. " _Worried!!_ " she squeals, coiling herself around Asra's forearm after her removal from his neck.

Asra goes to open his mouth to respond, but it's like his voice just doesn't work, producing no sound at all and prompting him to give up immediately. He turns to Kamui, who is watching the two interact. There wasn't much else to look at, after all.

Silently, Asra crawls over towards him, draping himself across Kamui's chest. Pale arms curl around him automatically, wrapping around his back and over the top of his head. Seemingly pleased with this change, Faust moves from Asra's arm to hang off Kamui's shoulders like a particularly leathery scarf.

Tipping his head back against the pillows, Kamui eventually says, "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Not because of the cake," Asra accurately guesses.

"I might actually throw up," Kamui says, with a bit more emphasis, warning the person who would be in the direct line of fire. "I can't stop thinking about it. What it would feel like—and it makes me so nauseous. And—If he doesn't… if he doesn't…" He pauses, swallowing past the tightness in his throat. His breaths stutter suddenly, getting caught in his throat. "I can't breathe."

Asra raises up, hands caressing the sides of his face. "It's alright, Kamui," he says softly, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks. It only helps to a certain extent—he's still unbearably nauseous, anxious, can barely see clearly. On the verge of tears, but so tired of crying.

"We were so close," he says, raising both hands to press into his eyes, frustrated. "This is my fault."

Right away, Asra pulls back, sitting up and pulling Kamui's hands away from his face. The last thing he wants to do is see the way that Asra's looking at him; no matter what expression he was pulling, Kamui didn't want to see it, keeping his eyes aimed at the pillows next to him instead.

"Kamui, what are you talking about?"

"It's… I just… I feel like I should have been able to do something," Kamui rambles, "I spent so long studying law to try and win his trial, and I couldn't do that. I couldn't do anything to protect him during the trial by combat. The spell didn't work. Did we just... waste a bunch of time? Isn't there something we should be doing, right now?" His breath quickens. "We could run. He could—Portia had something, right? He could run. Asra, why are we just letting this happen?"

Warm palms smooth over his cheeks, flattening the ends of his hair. Asra sits up properly, looking Kamui in the eye. "Kamui, listen to me. We did everything we could. In the end, this is Ilya's decision to make, not ours. If he wants to do this, then…" Asra trails off, seemingly losing his train of thought. "That's… his prerogative," he finishes, looking off to one side, distant. "There's nothing we can do."

Swallowing thickly, Kamui slowly nods, pressing his face into one of Asra's hands. There's silence for a few moments as he thinks over… everything. It's so hard to do that, though, when his brain is just a lot of the same words and images on repeat. Things he doesn't want to imagine, but that his brain provides, anyway. They lapse into silence, with Asra settling back in against Kamui's chest, ear pressed over his heart. Idly playing with Kamui's hands, while he stares into space again.

Eventually, Kamui says, "I'm sorry I've been such a mess lately."

"You're not a mess, Kamui," Asra says, tone so resolute that Kamui can't help but believe him—or want to, at the very least. It was spoken like a fact, like he knew for sure. Just like every time he spoke of Kamui, praising him, reassuring him, as if he truly believed it himself. It was so easy to think those were Asra's real thoughts, when he spoke it aloud in such a way.

"I treasure every moment we spend together," he adds, and Kamui almost wishes he wouldn't have said that, because it affects him a little too deeply. "Things will get better soon, Kamui."

 

 

His every nerve is alight with fear and anxiety as he follows in Asra's shadow, hand clasped in one of his. The afternoon sun _should_ feel nice on his naturally chilly skin, it should feel pleasant, healthy, comforting. It doesn't feel like anything at all now, though, with the crowded central square throwing him back to a time when he used to cling to Asra's back, afraid of all the wandering eyes, the noise, the added heat of so many bodies in one place. He was doing it again, and couldn't be bothered to feel embarrassed.

They remain on the outskirts of the crowd. Everyone is turned away from them, and once Kamui gets used to that, he manages to search through it, spotting Portia towards the center of it all, with Mazelinka not far from her. They appear to be conversing, oblivious to his presence at the far end of the crowd.

Turning back to Asra, he notices the magician looking directly at him, worry twisting his features. A combination of embarrassment at having been stared at, and guilt over having made Asra look so concerned forces Kamui to look away again.

"Asra," he starts, "What happens if I actually throw up?"

"You're not going to," Asra firmly reassures.

"But—But what if?"

Asra moves in closer, arms wrapping around Kamui in a side-hug, a hand pressed over his waist. A warm trickling of magic spreads over his body, soothing some of the nausea twisting at his insides. He doesn't say anything, just leans on Kamui's shoulder, soft hairs tickling his cheek. It feels a little…

"Asra. You're holding me like I'm pregnant," Kamui says. The comment forces a startled laugh out of the magician, who ducks his head to hide the potentially inappropriate noise from nearby people, shoulders shaking with mirth. It's enough to bring a small smile to Kamui's face, however brief it may be. After awhile, Asra raises his head back up, aiming a smirk in his lover's direction.

"Maybe you are. Magicians are capable of many things, you know," Asra jokes, smoothing his hand over Kamui's waist to complete the image.

"Must be the morning sickness, then." He reaches for Asra's hand, intertwining their fingers together.

"Don't worry, Kamui. I'll hold your hair if you _do_ throw up."

"So romantic," Kamui deadpans, garnering another chuckle from Asra.

It isn't long after that the main event starts; cheers and jeers alike erupting throughout the crowd as Julian is brought onto the stage, iron cuffs restraining his wrists behind his back. There's a cynical sort of grin on Julian's face as he confidently faces the crowd. The eyepatch is back on, Kamui notes, and his remaining silver eye is scanning the crowd, discreetly searching for something in particular while someone reads his crimes aloud.

He pauses upon spotting Portia and Mazelinka, but doesn't fully _stop_ until he sees the two, white-haired magicians holding each other at the back of the crowd. Even from this distance, Kamui can see the way his throat bobs, his pale neck devoid of the makeshift choker. Anxiety flits across his face before it's completely wiped away, back to his charismatic smile, notably softer for just a moment before he returns to facing the crowd at large.

The more vocal members of the crowd hurl insults at him as soon as they get the chance to. It's clear by the way each of those people shuts up in an instant that they didn't expect him to talk back.

"Did any of you even like him?!" he shouts, sneering out at the crowd who begins to wither at the force of his words. "Be honest with yourselves. What did your precious Count ever do besides kick back in his fancy palace while his citizens were dying in the streets? Do you think he ever cared about any of you? An entire district is flooded, more than half the city is in poverty, _children_ are starving in the streets because of him. I've done the people of Vesuvia a favor!"

The booing rapidly turns into cheering as more and more people grow brave enough to agree with him, drowning out those who would continue to jeer at him. Kamui would join the cheering, if only he could feel any part of his body enough to do so. Even Asra is tense at his side, his grip on Kamui's waist tightening at the mention of children.

Two separate guards step forward to lead Julian to the raised platform, as if he was about to be particularly belligerent; quite the opposite, in fact. His steps are even quicker than theirs, willingly stepping up onto the platform without assistance. The noose is lowered down around his neck, yet he doesn't appear the slightest bit nervous.

The feeling isn't mutual; Kamui locks up, fear spreading through every inch of his body, all the way down to his fingertips. Like a physical force coursing through him, churning his stomach and tightening around his heart in a vice grip. His hold on Asra's hand quickly borders on painful for both of them, painted-red fingernails digging in and leaving little crescent moon shaped marks in Asra's flesh.

He was overcome with the urge to do something,  _now_ , before it was too late. Magic burns his skin with nowhere to direct it to, his mind too much of a mess to decide on what he wanted to do.

Julian's eye catches on him, a smile forming. The sight halts Kamui's confused fight or flight response; he couldn't look away from it even if he wanted to, focused entirely on the oddly serene expression. He couldn't be sure if it was better or worse that Julian didn't seem afraid.

The executioner reaches for a lever to lower the platform at Julian's feet. The second the wooden doors below him open, Kamui lets out a fearful noise that's quickly swallowed up by the crowd, covering his eyes and nearly tripping over backwards. There are hands at his sides keeping him from toppling over, turning him away and pulling his head in tight against a warm chest.

Quickly, Kamui moves his hands from his eyes to his ears. Another set of hands press over his, making it difficult to hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears—it reminds him of the ocean. Of a better time, in the cave, when he fell beneath the surface of the water, surrounded in ethereal lights and colors, where everything felt peaceful. Instead of a crowd screaming in horror at the public spectacle they all asked for, but couldn't actually handle when they were faced with it.

Kamui has no idea when any part of it ends, he just knows that Asra is leading him somewhere. His own footsteps look clumsy and forced; he isn't aware of them, isn't aware of actually telling his body to move, it just is. And it clearly doesn't want to, based on how often he keeps stopping.

They make it over to an area nearby, where Asra helps Kamui to lean against a marble pillar. He has no idea what he's doing, how he looks, if he's making any noise. He's aware of Asra's hands on the back of his neck, gently rubbing, keeping his hair held back away from his mouth. Did he throw up? He doesn't remember that. It might have happened.

Asra's voice is speaking to him, gently, easier to hear with some distance between them and the crowd at their backs. Several minutes pass, and another voice is added, a feminine voice he recognizes, but that takes him a moment to put a name or face to. Portia is in tears, he can hear it in her voice; but still she's asking about him. He must not look okay. He can only see the ground, and it's getting blurry and dark—are they going somewhere, or…?

Everything burns a deep, dark shade of purple, then black. There's nothing at all for several prolonged moments, and then there's blue. There's stars, gentle streaks of lime and violet guiding his sight upwards. In the distance, among the ever changing patterns of stars, he sees a constellation he recognizes. It shines bright in the sky, stagnant, unlike all the rest. Thinking it a sign, he steps forward, stumbling towards it without ever feeling like he's getting any closer.

Regardless, after enough steps, the scenery warps around him, shifting into warmer tones, tall, dead trees, misty pools of swamp water, dry, cracked earth. It takes a moment before his mind provides him with the necessary information—he was in The Hanged Man's realm.

Before him lied a single, tiny island in the center of the forest. A mangrove tree, much larger and with farther reaching roots than all the rest, stretches up beside a lit lantern. It was both a contrast to the dead, unsettled land all around it, and something that blended in perfectly. In the lantern's light are two figures Kamui instantly recognizes; the dark, feathered form of The Hanged Man, and, at his feet, was Julian, kneeling like someone in the middle of worship. Yet his face looked serious, downcast, staring down at the dirt beneath his gloved hands with a thousand yard stare.

The sight of him, upright, breathing, _alive_ has Kamui rushing towards him, but no matter how hard he tries he can never come much closer than the other side of the water nearby. No matter how hard he strains his vocal chords, not a single word can be heard by either of them; or, at the very least, The Hanged Man doesn't bother to acknowledge him. It's easy to see his efforts are futile, and he falls to his knees. With nothing else to do, he listens in on the words exchanged between the two, in the middle of a conversation Kamui doesn't know the beginning of.

"I don't know why I'm surprised," Julian is saying, "It all makes sense. How he could have lived for so long, when every other patient I had died in only a few days. Why I would have gone to his chambers that night. It all started with him, so of course, it all ended with him, too."

"You would have done it, wouldn't you?" The deep, albeit scratchy voice of The Hanged Man says.

Julian scoffs bitterly, sneering down at the ground. "I would have done _anything_ to stop the plague. The stakes were too high."

"Because you were sick?"

"No," Julian says adamantly, shaking his head for emphasis, his auburn curls bouncing against the sharp cut of his cheekbones. "I didn't care about that. After everything I did, death was a far greater mercy than I deserved."

The Hanged Man tilts his head curiously. "After everything _you_ did?"

"It was my fault. It always was. Because I was too careless, too sure of myself. It really felt like I could do it, like I could fix everything, he really—he really made me feel that way. Like I was invincible. Like we both were," Julian says, his tone steadily growing more melancholic as he goes along. "It was foolish. Kamui was my apprentice, I should have paid more attention."

…What _?_

"He was always so mysterious, just like his partner—god, no wonder Asra hated me. His beloved died of the plague because of my incompetence, and I foolishly wandered right into his arms night after night like I at all deserved his love." 

All the blood drains out of Kamui's body, suddenly, leaving him cold, lightheaded, dizzy. He stares down at his hands. Pale, with easy-to-spot veins darting up his arms, just under the sleeves of his jacket. His fingers tremble, twitch under his command—he wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead, couldn't have died, that didn't make sense. People didn't just come back to life…

Except… except for…

Julian lowers himself even closer to the ground, curls brushing the dirt. "After all that, after all the lives that were lost because of me—I had to be made to repent for it. If I could cure the plague, if I could spare even just one person the pain of loss, if I could save someone's life, maybe… I'd have done anything. Anything at all."

"And what will you do now?"

Julian raises his head, looking up at the raven-headed man. "Now?" he asks.

"Will you accept punishment and remain here in my realm, or will you go back to your old life and repent? The choice is no one's but yours."

Auburn hair brushes against the ground as Julian lowers back down, face hidden from view. In turn, Kamui's eyes raise upwards as if drawn there by some magnetic force, peering right back into the beady, black eyes of The Hanged Man. It felt like he was staring right back at him.

The darkness grows, enveloping him, turning everything back to black.


	13. Death

Colors appear before his eyes, blurry splashes of paint on a canvas. Through a dull throb in his head he can make out a series of noises, voices, as they fade into existence around him.

"They have a guest room cleared out for him down the hall," comes the sound of a light, feminine voice. There's footsteps, followed closely by the sound of a door clicking shut. "Is he awake yet?"

A hand smooths over his forehead, brushing his hair aside. He blinks, colors and shapes blending together into the image of Asra hovering over the top of him, a soft smile on his lips. The warm tones of the palace guest room fade into view behind him. Kamui bites the inside of his lip.

"Good morning," Asra says quietly. "How are you feeling?"

Kamui just stares back at him. Words don't seem to be forming properly in his mind and he's overcome with a compulsion he doesn't understand, but that's not any different from everything else, at the moment. He rises up onto his elbows, hand making contact with Asra's chest and pushing, unsure if he's being gentle or forceful or something in-between. The magician easily moves aside, watching Kamui swing his legs over the side of the bed. Bleary red eyes make contact with white and pale gold boots, still on. Distantly he feels like that should really bother him, yet it doesn't. Standing, he wobbles on his feet enough that Asra jumps up to steady him.

He's at the door leading out of the guest chambers before he realizes it, nearly tripping right into the wood. Stumbling, his legs useless so soon after waking—but it didn't matter. He exits into the hallway, hearing Asra's voice calling out after him, confused and concerned. He ignores it. Eyes directed at the floor but not seeing, blurry, dark, his focus stuck on a courtyard, memories of a magician and all the time he spent wondering _why wasn't I there with you? What happened to us?_

There's a set of footsteps not far behind him, never close enough to touch, his own outpacing them at every turn. It only registers in his mind briefly enough to force him to quicken his steps.

The front gates of the palace pass him by. A hand touches his elbow, attempting to grasp at the sleeve of his jacket, but he tears it away far too quickly, breaking into a sprint; operating on pure instinct alone.

The streets of the city roll past him in a blur; it was crowded so close to the palace, forcing him to push past so many people on the way. It doesn't occur to him that it's rude, that he should apologize. The fact that there were people he was mowing down at all wasn't a thought in his mind. They might as well not have even existed. The population thins out quickly. His vision blurs the farther along he goes, all the running making it hard to get a proper intake of air, dizzying him, but he doesn't stop.

The sand beneath his feet gets kicked up in a chaotic spray as he boards the docks. It isn't until his boots stomp along the wood that he slows down, collapsing to his knees as his chest heaves, desperate for air. His throat feels raw under the strain, sweat dripping down his brow.

Another person approaches, panting almost as much as he is as they step onto the pier. Instinct forces Kamui back up to his feet, whirling around to face Asra as he slows to a stop a few feet away.

"Kamui," Asra manages, in-between struggling breaths, "Why are we here?"

He doesn't answer. Ruby red eyes dart around the area, so dizzy that locating the rowboat off to the left is harder than it needs to be, his eyes going right past it multiple times. It probably belongs to someone, but… that doesn't matter. They won't notice it's missing.

Kamui hops off the side of the pier, swaying dangerously before managing to right himself. The boat is upturned, buried partially beneath the sand and covered in algae. Kamui doesn't bother swiping those away, merely wrapping his arms around the half closest to the water and lifting it up, sand cascading off the sides. It's somehow both heavier and lighter than expected.

"Kamui, stop," Asra calls out from up on the docks. "I know you're curious but this isn't—there's nothing to—just follow me back to the palace. Ilya is waiting for us."

Arms shaking under the strain, Kamui stubbornly shoves upwards, dangerously close to where the boat would be if it fell from his grasp. He tries to take a step back, drag it out from under the sand, not even _considering_ using magic, but it takes all he has just to keep it from crashing onto his head, or at the very least, his toes.

There's a thud in the sand nearby, but he doesn't bother investigating. That is, until Asra comes into his line of sight, quickly tossing all the sand covering the boat aside with his magic before standing on the other end, lifting the boat up with a lot more ease than Kamui. Together they manage to carry it over to the water, dropping it along the waves to push it the rest of the way out.

Realizing the fatal flaw in his plan, Kamui looks around the beach for a paddle, coming up with nothing but a particularly long piece of driftwood. It would have to do. Lifting it up, he hops inside the boat, using the pier to guide it farther out.

As the boat is pushed out past the pier, Kamui looks back, catching a glimpse of Asra's face from up on the docks. A glimpse of panic, of fear, of dread and confusion and a lot of things he never wanted to see. Regardless, he doesn't stop, attempting to get the driftwood to work as a paddle before feeling the boat rock behind him. He turns, spotting the magician standing not far from him. Asra lowers himself onto the only other seat, reaching back into the water behind it.

Moments later the boat propels forward, speeding along of its own accord. Asra pulls his hand back, but doesn't turn, sitting facing the beach they were fast leaving behind. That's fine—Kamui wasn't ready for eye contact, anyway. Letting the driftwood fall into the water, he faces in the opposite direction, watching the Lazaret slowly come into focus.

The island isn't quite what he expected from afar; it's littered with weeds, leafy bushes, trees with low-hanging branches. The boat hits the shore with a bit of a jolt, although it doesn't seem to have damaged anything. Kamui steps out the second he's able to. However, he doesn't make it a single step away before there's a hand around his wrist, _tight,_ impossible to break away from on his own. It scares him until he remembers who it is.

"You don't have to do this," Asra says. "You've seen it up close, that's enough. Let's head back now, okay?"

Kamui tugs on his wrist as a way of saying _no._ But instead of being let go, Asra doubles down, his other hand grabbing onto Kamui's arm.

"I don't know what could happen to you if—I can't do this again. Let's just go back to the palace, okay? I'll ask someone to bring us some lemon tea, and something sweet, whatever you want, and—"

"No," Kamui declares. The strict tone of his voice—or, perhaps, the fact that he's spoken at all—has shock filtering through Asra's features. "Let go of me."

Like a spell being uttered, Asra's grip loosens considerably, enough that Kamui can register the quaking of his hands, before falling away entirely. Immediately Kamui turns and stalks off, hearing the telltale sounds of Asra tripping over the edge of the boat in his haste to catch up. A small part of him flinches at the sound, worried he might hurt himself, but he's too focused to turn back now, and there are footsteps not far behind him anyway.

No words are exchanged as they walk forward, deeper into the foliage. It's like wandering through a miniature forest, yet the path up is easy to find and avoid straying from. The closer they get to the facility, the farther away Asra strays, until Kamui can't hear his footsteps at all. He doesn't check, doesn't stop walking, doesn't think to.

The front door is locked; not that it matters. A quick burst of magic busts it open. The door protests movement, scraping along the ground, which is _covered_ in ash and dust. The interior is hard to see in the dead of night, forcing Kamui to summon a ball of light to illuminate the area.

Stepping inside, he wanders through a series of hallways, spying moth-eaten sheets on plain white hospital beds, room after room. It doesn't take long for him to locate a crematorium. The area is wide open, yet nearly every surface is coated in dried, brown blood and other stains. There's no furniture to be found, just the sealed doors of gas ovens installed into the far wall, with a door off to the right.

Intuition leads him inside, where moonlight shines in through a cracked window. Nausea rises in him along with the overall temperature of the room as he reaches for the handle to one oven in particular, feeling it call to him.

Instantly he tears his hand back, heat searing into his skin, too hot to register the flesh melting from his bones, smoke flooding his already clogged and struggling lungs. Tripping backwards, he nearly sprains an ankle in his haste to get away, knees skidding across the tiles. Ash coats his hands as his palms scrape across the floor, the harsh, unpolished stone cutting into his flesh. Twisting away from the ovens, he coughs uncontrollably for several seconds before beginning to wheeze instead, unable to breathe.

Hands grasp his shoulders as Asra nearly slides across the floor to get to his side as fast as possible. The trembling of his hands is too severe to be of any use, ending up balled into the ivory fabric of Kamui's sleeves.

"I'm here, it's alright," Asra says softly, even as his voice wavers. "This place can't hurt you anymore."

_Me, or you?_

Tugging at his own hair, Kamui inhales sharply, tasting ash, which just ends up choking him. Asra tries turning Kamui's head to face him, but he resists, not wanting to look at his expression right now, to see how upset he must be.

Ruby eyes water, blurring his vision and forcing him to blink through tears to clear it. It was a mistake, like the trigger to some horrid curse. All over the room, wall-to-wall—festering bodies in white gowns, _ghosts,_ covered in blood and various other bodily fluids, some lifeless, others about to be. A few of them hold onto each other, desperate for comfort.

He can't tell if he's breathing anymore. He can still smell it—of course, the ash is everywhere, traces of blood and bile lingering on the unwashed surfaces of the walls and floors, but there was more than that. Such a specific, unique scent, burned into his nostrils.

Shoving to his feet, he rushes at the door nearby, ignoring the sound of Asra calling after him. Bursting out onto the other side, he starts running, and running, and running. Eventually a door leads him to the outside of the facility, and he gasps, desperate for fresh air. Instead he inhales a sickly combination of sand and ash.

He coughs, wobbling out onto the beach. The sand at his feet was discolored, blackened. He keeps going, until his legs collapse out from under him and he's forced to catch himself. The waves lap at his hands, washing away soot and soothing the stinging scrapes on his palms.

Dizzy from a lack of air, he nearly blacks out when Asra drops down beside him, pulling Kamui into his arms. It sends a jolt of panic through him—it wasn't normal for Asra to touch him so suddenly, with no hesitation or subtlety. He's shaking—Kamui can't tell where he begins and Asra ends, it just feels like everything is vibrating, swaying, a little too dark, a little too gray.

Struggling for air, he finds himself clinging to Asra's back, hard enough that it hurts his fingers. Carefully, Asra pries one of them away. The back gets pressed against Asra's chest, beneath the fabric of his shirt, skin clammy and heart beating rapidly, in perfect sync with Kamui's own. No matter how long Kamui listened, they never strayed. And he listened, and listened, and listened; as the beats evened out, as his breathing grew less shallow, as the sound of Asra's voice rose to the surface, a litany of _I'm here_ and _everything is alright now._

Kamui turns his head, seeing the nearly-black waters of the sea stretching on for miles. Perfectly calm, perfectly contained. A light breeze blows past, ruffling his hair. Outside all the previous noise was a dissonant sense of peace; leaves rustling in the wind, the gentle lapping of the ocean waves, Asra's voice like a lullaby sung right into his ears and throughout his body.

It's hard to think coherently. There's a chaotic mess of emotions swirling throughout his body and he doesn't know which one to focus on first.

"Asra," he says, his voice like a whisper barely carrying over the sound of the waves lapping at their knees. Yet somehow he knows it did, even without a response. "What happened to me?"

Asra swallows thickly, his breaths strained and altogether _off,_ like a breeze over the stormy seas. "It was four years ago, shortly after the plague started," he says, trailing off like speaking was suddenly too difficult for him, like his throat had been stuffed full of cotton and he was fighting to get any sound out. "I wanted us to flee, but you refused. You weren't willing to leave Ilya behind. There was an argument, I… left." He wraps his arm tighter around Kamui's back. "I shouldn't have. When I came back months later, I found a note in the shop. It was barely legible. I-It… And you… were…"

There's a sharp intake of breath, the sound sending a spike through Kamui's chest. He pulls back, holding Asra at arm's length. Wide, amethyst eyes, overflowing with tears, stare back at him. Asra covers his mouth, expression bordering on _ill,_ pale and so pained that Kamui doesn't know what to think. He's never seen this before. It was never—it was never like this.

Moving his hands just enough to speak, Asra breathes, "You were _brilliant._ I was so scared for you yet I never thought you could actually die. I thought I'd come home and you'd be there, and we'd make up and you'd make us tea and tell me something stupid Ilya said and you'd kiss me and call me those sappy petnames that you loved so much and we'd be happy, like we always were—"

Breaths sharp and shallow, Asra curls in on himself, head lowered far too much for Kamui to see anything but hair, arms wrapped tight around himself. Kamui has no idea what to do, but it hurts—clamps around his throat, a type of pain he's never felt before flooding his chest. He can feel it all; grief, longing, regret. Guilt. Horrible, horrible guilt.

"I'm sorry," Asra cries, struggling to contain himself. "I never should have left. I wasn't there for you when it happened, and…"

"Asra," Kamui says, fingers clenching around the magician's biceps, "Tell me what happened."

Sniffling, Asra wipes his face on his arm, struggling to contain himself. Slowly, he wraps his fingers around the knit fabric of Kamui's shirt.

"After I found the note, I ran here… I-I thought… I thought if I ran fast enough, you'd still be here. Alive. I'd have done anything to cure you, _anything._ At the very least, I just wanted to see you. To tell you I was sorry, and that I—" He cuts himself off, taking in a deep breath. "The doctors told me I'd find you out here," he turns his head, staring out at the sand behind them. "I could still feel your magic, lingering. I tracked down any trace of it I could get and just started digging until my fingers bled. But all that was left of you was ash and bone."

There's a far-off, haunted look in his eyes, as Kamui pulls his head in against his chest, allowing the magician to cry freely into his scarf. The fingers in his shirt shift higher, wrapping tighter. "I did everything I could," he continues. "Without you… there was just no point anymore. Nothing felt the same. For weeks I was this… husk, and then it occurred to me." He turns away, staring out at the leaves brushing against the side of the facility. "Why did I have to accept it? Nothing about it was fair. You didn't deserve to just—wither away. This wasn't…"

He shakes his head, turning to glare heatedly at the sand. "This isn't you. You're radiant. No one is more exciting and dazzling than you are. You don't deserve… _this._ "

Dazzling? Radiant? _Brilliant?_ _Was that what he was supposed to be?_

"I brought you back," Asra says. He pulls back, raising a hand up to his heart and lightly tracing the shape of it. Kamui unknowingly mirrors the action. "At the ritual. I gave half of my heart to bring you back to me." He stares intensely into Kamui's eyes, his own wide and almost pleading. "You're everything to me."

The words bring everything to a crawl; like time itself had slowed, zeroing in on this one moment. It doesn't feel like he needs to breathe anymore. A pit forms in his stomach, and all he can bring himself to do is stare.

_Everything?_

To bring himself to such a traumatizing place, to stay behind in a land of the dead, working on something he had no stake in anymore to save people he was perfectly fine running away from before; all that, for one person? A person who didn't exist anymore?

Was it stubbornness? Arrogance? A rebellion against the natural order? …Love?

For who?

Staring down at the shoreline, wetting their pant legs, too warm to notice anymore, Kamui breathes in deeply, saying, "You did all that, for him?"

Moments pass in deafening silence. Asra raises his head, and Kamui peers up at him through long, white lashes, spotting confusion, and something like dread.

"I did it for _you,_ " Asra says, frowning. Swallowing thickly, Kamui struggles to hold his head high, brows a tense, hard line and lips pressed tight, resisting the words impulsively bubbling forth like poison.

"No," Kamui insists, slowly shaking his head as a scowl starts to form on his face. "You wouldn't have done something like that for _me_ . No one would risk dying like that for me. You gave your heart for _him,_ your _dazzling_ and _brilliant_ magician, not for me."

All the blood drains from Asra's face, his violet eyes, so beautiful and full of life, appearing hollow as he stares down at Kamui in horror. "What are you talking about?"

"You _know,_ don't you?" Kamui says, voice breaking halfway yet he doesn't give in. "I'm nothing like what I should be. Everyone can see it, I'm the only one who doesn't know. But _you_ do. You know, and you can't stand me unless I remind you of your dead lover."

"What?" Asra bristles, his fingers tightening around Kamui's sleeves as his apprentice looks away, glaring down at the sand. "No! That's not true, how can you even say that?"

He reaches upwards, caressing the pale, damp skin of Kamui's cheek for all of three seconds before his hand is harshly slapped away. Amethyst eyes go wide with shock, stilling like he's been turned to stone.

"It _is_ true!" Kamui exclaims. "I'm like some sort of… abomination. Your lover's body with someone else inside of it." Arms wrap around his torso, nails digging in wherever they can, tight, joints hurting, clothes wrinkling hard enough to threaten tearing. He wishes they weren't there, that he could feel flesh and blood under his nails.

He continues, "You know that, and having to see me, how wrong I am—it's why you keep running away, isn't it?"

Blinking like he's just come out of a stupor, Asra sputters. "I-I haven't been running—"

"But when you were with me, you just cried all the time. It's because I upset you, isn't it? And you told me to stop touching you, and you started sleeping in the shop instead of upstairs with me, and…" Burning hot tears overflow behind his eyes, blurring his vision. His body sags, miserable. "Why can't you ever stay with me? Do you hate me?"

"No!" Asra firmly insists, body going rigid with shock. Kamui can feel it, too. The pain, in every inch of his body, tight, like all his bones were about to snap. It wraps around his throat, squeezing, as Asra's face crumples, tears cascading down his cheeks in waves. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you feel unwanted, I had no idea you were feeling this way. If I had known, I never would have…"

"You don't know because you're never around," Kamui bitterly points out, gritting his teeth and turning away as one of his hands cards into his own hair, tugging hard. One of Asra's hands reach out to stop him, but it stops just short.

"I want to be. Kamui, there's nowhere I'd rather be than with you."

"Stop lying to me! Stop acting like you hate all the adventures you're going on without me there to poison your life."

Violet eyes snap wide open in shock as Kamui jumps to his feet, pacing wildly about the beach without a care to the mess he was making in the sand. He can't think clearly, tugging on his hair with a strange sort of aggression, _hoping_ he'll tear out strands. Maybe it'll make him look like a different person, the right person.

"Kamui, please," Asra pleads. But Kamui doesn't give him the chance to explain himself, to beg, to argue, whatever he was planning on doing.

"I'm so _stupid,_ " Kamui groans, dragging nails down his face hard enough to hurt, maybe even hard enough to leave a mark. He didn't know, it didn't matter. "I don't know why I ever thought you liked me. People don't just go from avoiding someone like a contagious disease to falling into bed with them like you did."

"I wasn't avoiding you."

Kamui turns with his arms thrown out at his sides. "What the hell else were you doing, then?"

"Protecting you!" Asra exclaims, getting to his feet suddenly enough that Kamui flinches, his fight or flight response swaying towards flight. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it was for me to be around you? All your headaches, all the pain and blood and fainting spells, every time I thought you'd dropped dead in my arms, all because I can't keep my mouth shut. I screw up all the time and you're the one who has to suffer for it. The only way to keep you safe was to remove myself from the equation, just like… everything else I had to get rid of. I was just one more thing."

He sinks back down to the ground, slowly. Bending over himself, arms wrapped loosely around his waist like it all made him nauseous. "I almost thought about moving out," he admits. "But I worry about you too much, and I… I couldn't have…" His face starts to fall, as the tears start anew, a breath leaving him in a stutter. Arms tighten around his frame. "I couldn't… Every time I thought that maybe I just shouldn't come back, I felt sick. I couldn't do it. I missed you so much, I couldn't sleep at night. It hurt. I…"

It's quiet, the sound of Asra's sobs as he curls around himself, but no less hard to listen to. Feeling something inside of him twist, he stares, too stunned to form words. The world around him feels a bit less real as he shambles over to where Asra rests in the sand, the sound drawing his attention. Violet eyes stare up at him, round and questioning.

Pausing for just a moment, he glances over the magician's expression, the look in his watery eyes so tender and _breakable_ it makes his heart melt. Sitting in the sand before him, he raises a hand, brushing it under Asra's bangs so it rests over his eyes.

"I don't understand you." Taking a deep breath, he holds it for several seconds before slowly releasing it. "Think about who I am right now. I'm rude, and overemotional, and childish. I can't function like a normal adult, and I guilt trip you whenever you want to leave. You talk about me like I'm some vibrant, shining star and I can't help but wonder if you even know me at all."

"I do," Asra says, soft but insistent. One of his hands raises to grasp onto Kamui's, touch light but nevertheless causing Kamui's hand to press tighter over Asra's eyes, refusing to be moved.

"Do you?" Kamui asks, letting out a small, breathless sound arguably adjacent to a laugh. His head dips forward, like it was too much effort to remain upright. "Who am I, then?"

Soft lips part, thoughtful. A few moments pass in silence, before a soft, nearly silent laugh escapes Asra's lips, tears wetting Kamui's hand. Dread forms in the pit of his stomach, anticipating the worst.

"You're wonderful," Asra says, a smile forming on his face. It takes Kamui by surprise, the press of his hand loosening as suspicion and doubt are replaced near immediately by a much different feeling, something he feels he should trust. "You're strong, and passionate, and curious, and every bit the man I once knew you to be. I see more of you every day and I'm so proud of the person you're turning out to be, so wise and caring and…"

His fingers curl around Kamui's hand, which pulls back just enough to make it easier, wanting the contact just as much as the magician himself. "You're calmer than you used to be," Asra continues. "The world hasn't hurt you quite as much as it had before. Yet you don't smile as much as you used to, and I worry that has something to do with me." His smile fades away entirely. "I worry that maybe I'm the one who hurt you, instead."

Kamui can _feel_ himself frowning, the instinctual desire to reassure Asra that that isn't the case rising in him. To tell him that no matter what, he's always been a source of joy, and comfort, never… Never anything else, not when he's around.

_But when you're not…_

Sleepless nights. Waking up in the kitchen, hungry and tired, just to sulk around all day reading, the hours blurring together with running the shop being the only stable thing to hold onto. Alone, and cold, and far too quiet, made worse when not even Faust is around to check on him. Thinking; _if I fell down the stairs and died, how long would it take before anyone noticed?_ _How would Asra feel if he came back and I'd screwed everything up? Would that be the final straw? How far does his patience extend?_

"Sometimes," Asra continues, tearing Kamui away from his thoughts. "I take a moment to watch you. You look so cute when you're studying or trying something new and you learn new things so quickly. Every time I'm overcome with the urge to kiss you, to hold you tight and never let go. You feel like home to me."

His words send a flare of something at once painful and wonderful through Kamui's chest. Asra's tears are warm against his hand, lip curling as a hand raises to hide it. "I couldn't tell you," he says, voice slightly muffled beneath his hand yet the despair is just as clear as ever. "But every time I saw you, I wanted to. I just feel so right when I'm with you. The things you say and do make me so happy, when you're not even trying."

Slowly, the pale, trembling hand covering his eyes pulls away, turning to interlace their fingers. Bright, violet eyes shimmer with tears, glinting in the moonlight. They rake over Kamui's face, brows furrowed and eyes watering.

"Nothing has changed," Asra says, reaching up to caress the side of Kamui's face right as it starts to crumple, overflowing with tears. "I feel the same for you as I always did. Maybe even more than before."

A pale set of hands wrap around Asra's, pulling him against his chest. A shuddering breath escapes him as sobs begin to wrack his body. Asra wraps an arm around him, urging him closer, where he buries his face into Asra's shoulder. His shoulders shake, arms wrapping around his back.

"I'm sorry, Asra," Kamui chokes out.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Asra says. He brushes his fingers through Kamui's hair, rubbing his back in slow, gentle circles. "I hurt you, when I was only trying to do the opposite. It was careless. I should have known something like this would happen."

A scoffing laugh breaks through Kamui's sobs. "How could you? I never told you. All I do is act like everything's fine, but nothing's fine. I've gotten so mad at you before, _I_ thought about running away. But I don't know anything about the world. I'm trapped inside the shop."

"That'll change," Asra says. "After the masquerade… anywhere you want to go, I'll take you there. Wherever and whenever you want."

"Anywhere…?" Kamui echoes. "Can you show me your favorite place?"

A hum vibrates in Asra's throat. "We've already been there," he says, causing Kamui to frown slightly.

"We have?"

The imprint of a smile can be felt as Asra presses a kiss to the side of Kamui's face, prompting him to turn and lift his head, catching the playful glint in Asra's eyes. His face is a mess with visible tear tracks and puffy eyes, yet Kamui finds he doesn't see any of that. The flirtatious curl of his lips and mischievous look in his eyes is only slightly watered down. "My favorite place is wherever you are," he says.

It takes a moment for Kamui to properly process that, but once he does, he can't help but scoff in disbelief. A smile wobbles on his lips, tears flooding his eyes, as a watery laugh builds in his throat until he's left giggling uncontrollably. Covering his mouth, he bends back towards Asra's shoulder, hiding.

"You're so—That was so…"

Asra's smug grin can be heard plainly in his tone as he responds, "So what?"

"Cheesy," Kamui manages to say through his giggles. "It was terrible. I love it." Wiping his eyes, he raises back up with a tender smile. Glancing over Asra's face, his soft white hair, the affection held in his eyes, Kamui's heart feels about ready to burst. His smile begins to wane, anxiety taking its place. "I think I'm in love with you," he says suddenly.

Asra tenses, eyes wide and searching; like he couldn't possibly have heard what he thought he heard. His lips part soundlessly, and it's in that moment of hesitation that Kamui starts to doubt himself all over again; what if that was too much? Was he crossing a line? Maybe he got it all wrong, maybe Asra was even better at lying than he thought, maybe Asra was just pacifying him so they could get off this island faster, since, afterall, it wasn't like he was—

Asra surges forward, cutting off his troubled thoughts with a kiss. Hands slide into his hair, gripping almost hard enough to hurt, and he shivers. His back hits the shoreline next to them, a hand cradling his head as it makes contact with the water. The sudden movement, combined with the warm press of Asra's body have him really dizzy.

"Asra," Kamui gasps, whimpering as lips trail down towards his neck, head tilting back automatically to allow teeth to sink into his flesh. Skin prickling with desire, he lets out a gasp, feeling Asra's nails against the back of his neck, gripping his hair. "A-Asra…"

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that," Asra says, drawing a soft gasp from the man beneath him as teeth graze Kamui's throat.

"Ah—Th-Three years?"

"Longer." One of his hands trails down to Kamui's hip, effortlessly navigating the various layers that make up his outfit to slip his hand under Kamui's shirt. It slowly runs up his side, sending a shiver down his spine. Lips leaving the line of his throat, Asra continues, "I would have given anything just to hear your voice again. To tell you I loved you."

He raises up, meeting Kamui's eye. Based on the raw look in his amethyst eyes, he looks on the verge of something. Kamui only hopes it isn't more tears; he can't stand the sight of Asra looking so upset.

"I love you," Asra professes. A lump forms in Kamui's throat. Of course, how silly of him—he was the one on the verge of tears, not the other way around. 

His fingers tighten around the fabric of Asra's shirt, dragging him back down on impulse. Their lips crash together, a bit messily at first, although it's hard to care. There's a desperate need to get as close as possible, to feel Asra's skin and lips on him, to burn the moment into him so he can't ever forget, can't allow the recesses of his mind to twist this into something else. There's nothing to doubt about the way Asra kisses him, the sharp press of his nails like he's afraid Kamui will run away, or disappear.

Kamui's arms wrap tight around Asra's back, a hand sliding into his wispy hair and tightening around the strands. A warm palm glides up over his spine, his back lifting off the sand with a gasp. Their lips part but Asra keeps going, down the line of his jaw before finding his way to Kamui's ear and taking the lobe between his teeth.

Without really thinking about it, Kamui hooks a leg around one of Asra's thighs, a hand sliding down to grab his ass all in an attempt to pull him closer, feeling a distinct need for their lower bodies to connect, whatever that entails. There's a soft smile on Asra's face as he presses a gentle kiss to the corner of Kamui's mouth; right before giving Kamui exactly what he wants in the form of a none-too-gentle grind of their hips.

"I love you," Asra whispers, the low, sultry tone of his voice reverberating in Kamui's ear and sending shivers down his spine. "I want you to feel it, how much I adore you."

 _I do,_ he wants to say, _I do, I do, I do_ —his heart has never felt so full. Lips focused on his neck, Asra wraps an arm around his back, the other reaching for the waistband of his pants. The second he catches on to the fact that his pants are being unbuttoned, he feels his heart rate sharply rise.

A hand smooths down over pale, wiry hairs, fingers teasing his length and causing him to gasp, legs curling. It takes everything in his power not to grab onto that hand, because it was entirely too motionless and he was suddenly desperate for _anything_ else. Asra's breath is hot against his skin as he whispers just below his ear, "Tell me to stop."

The rush of blood to his lower body clouds his mind, making Asra's statement one of the most complexing things he's ever heard. "Why would I do that?" he asks, receiving a small, airy laugh in response. It's been awhile since he's stopped to appreciate it, but, Asra's laugh is like music to his ears, deep and soothing.

Head leaning into the crook of his neck and shoulder, Asra wraps his hand more firmly around him, stroking slowly and feeling Kamui swiftly harden in his grasp. Soft lips caress his neck and collar before finding their way to his chest, shirt pushed up and sash pooling on the ground beneath him, removed at some point Kamui clearly hadn't been paying attention to. Asra takes a pale pink nipple into his mouth, laving over it with his tongue and sucking.

Kamui's head tips back with a groan, soaking into the water like he was lounging inside a warm bath. The hand gliding slowly over his cock gives one last firm squeeze over the head before moving lower down along his body, caressing the curve of his ass and thighs. A soft sigh drifts out of his lips as his leg curls even higher. It's followed up with a gasp as a finger presses against his hole, rubbing over him in slow circles, free hand massaging the length of his body.

There's a soft, knowing smile on Asra's face as Kamui tugs at his clothing, magenta scarf discarded off to one side and beige shirt dragged down over his shoulders, buttons more-or-less torn open to reveal a smooth chest and firm, muscled abdomen. Wrapping his arms around his torso and beneath his shirt, Kamui pulls him close. The skin of their torsos feel as though they melt together, sticky with sweat and comforting.

Asra presses his finger more firmly against Kamui's entrance, gently whispering instructions for him to relax and control his breath as he pushes inside. He goes slowly, letting Kamui feel every inch of him as he slides inside, slick with traces of magic. They breathe in together, gasping at the intrusion; it doesn't even register to Kamui that Asra is mirroring his reactions, head dropping down to Kamui's shoulder, a low noise escaping him that Kamui barely notices over his own.

Once he's fully sheathed, he remains perfectly still for far longer than Kamui would think necessary, but he doesn't say anything, focusing, instead, on the feeling of having something inside of him. Asra's fingers are thicker than his own, just enough to be noticeable. Eventually, he pulls nearly all the way out, before sliding back in, slow, a second being added after several long minutes, the stretch completely painless, a pleasant sort of burn taking its place.

It doesn't feel the same as when he would do it to himself, and he's not sure what to blame it on; Asra, or his magic. It feels more akin to a massage, rubbing along his walls before finding his prostate and stroking slowly over it, savouring the full-body shudder it drags out of him. But Asra doesn't pull away afterwards; dragging over it, again and again, petting him. Slow, but constant, the feeling spreading throughout his body, his erection all-but forgotten in favor of getting as physically close to Asra as possible. He can feel the beat of his heart from where their chests press together, Asra's head buried in the crook of his shoulder.

It builds and builds as Asra picks up the pace only slightly, eventually reaching a fever pitch. Kamui's orgasm hits him hard and dry, nails dragging thick lines across Asra's back. He whimpers pathetically as Asra gasps, keeping the motion of his fingers going.

As if he was attuned to it, his fingers slow the second it becomes too much. After their breathing starts to relax, Asra props himself up and kisses him, long and slow. Then his hand wraps around Kamui's length, gliding perfectly soft and warm over his skin. Unlike before, he doesn't bother with a slow pace. In mere moments he brings Kamui over the edge, continuing to stroke him like he was eager to milk him of every last drop.

They continue to lay there for awhile, with Asra lying bonelessly over the top of him, seemingly just as worn-out. It both strikes him as odd, and doesn't at all, short-circuiting his already hazy mind into just not questioning it. After awhile, Asra's hand moves, slowly and with subtle movements, using the nearby water to wash away their mess. Kamui just watches him. It felt soothing, like a warm bath.

Once he's done, he props himself up, face sweat-soaked and a little dazed. He stares into Kamui's eyes, his hand sliding up and down over the length of his chest. Kamui finds himself with the desire to lean forward, to steal a kiss, but without the energy to do so. Hardly a moment later, Asra does it for him. It's slow and soft, tasting of salt, but also of spice, like he was used to.

When they part, Kamui says, "I feel… I don't know." He tilts his head back. "Like I've just had a religious experience?"

A soft chuckle parts Asra's lips, which curl into a self-satisfied grin. He props his chin up on the backs of his hands, peering down over Kamui's face. "Oh? I'm that good?"

"Oh, shut up. That's not what I meant," Kamui laughs, giving Asra a playful shove that has him grinning wickedly.

"You love me," Asra teasingly croons. Despite his tone, his playful expression starts to fade, turning softer and more fond. Kamui notices that right away, his own grin changing to match.

"I do," he says. "I love you, Asra."

The smile on Asra's face becomes almost silly after that, flustering him enough to try to hide it behind his hand. It's one of the most adorable things Kamui's ever witnessed, and this was for someone who hand-knit sweaters for his snake. He can't resist the urge to grab Asra's face and pull him in for a smooch. Asra is giggling as he pulls away.

"I love you," Kamui repeats in a sing-song voice, pressing a firm kiss to Asra's cheek.

Asra's arms encircle his back, one of his hands finding its way to Kamui's dripping wet hair. "I love you, too," he says lowly, leaning back and gently raising the both of them up off the sand. "Let's go back to the palace. I don't want to be on this island anymore."

Kamui blinks as if he's just woken up, reattuning to the world around him. It had escaped his notice a long time ago that they were still on the Lazaret. With that realization comes a lot of other ones—memories of what he saw inside the facility, the breakdown, the argument, followed by… well. Was 'make-up sex' an appropriate term? Even if Asra didn't…

"Wait, what about you?" Kamui blurts out. Sitting up on his own more properly to allow Asra to pull back, he meets the magician's confused gaze for a moment, watching the gears turn in his eyes. Once understanding hits, Asra looks immensely flustered, ducking his head a bit and looking away.

"You don't have to worry about that," he says quietly. Saying nothing more on the matter, he reaches for both of Kamui's hands, shifting like he was about to stand, but stops short. "Oh, your hands…"

Bemused, Kamui looks down at them. They're a bit dirty, but—oh. Turning them over, he spots the scrapes on his hands, stained with a small amount of smeared blood. Asra takes them both, his magic warming Kamui's skin and easing lingering traces of pain as the wounds heal up like nothing had ever happened. There's something about the feeling, of Asra's magic on his skin, that's a lot different than he remembers. It makes his heart pound.

Asra raises Kamui's hands up to his mouth, pressing kisses all over his palms where the scrapes used to be, and more. Kamui finds himself drifting closer to him without realizing; Asra does, though, and smirks over at him. The warm, fluttery feeling in Kamui's chest grows more intense.

After fixing their outfits, Asra silently leads him around the side of the facility, avoiding it like—well. The walk passes in a blur, with Kamui feeling like he's just woken up from a very strange nap.

Their return trip is a lot slower, allowing them to enjoy the calm waters and gentle swaying of the boat, the peace of the stillness of night, the warmth of each other's company. Ignoring the seats entirely, they cram themselves in between, side-by-side, halfway in each other's laps. Asra leans on Kamui while he plays with the magician's hands, observing the way his blue nail polish glimmers in the moonlight.

"Asra," Kamui eventually says, hearing a soft hum of acknowledgement in response. "I, um. I want you to know that I didn't really mean any of those things I said."

Asra hesitates in responding for long enough that he feels the need to keep talking.

"I spent a lot of time being mad at you. But it was never fair to you, and I never realized that, or even thought about it, because, well, I… we felt leagues apart, like you're so much better than me and I'll never catch up, and I must not matter as much to you as you matter to me, because why would I? I never understood how you really felt about me and I'm sorry, Asra."

"Don't apologize," Asra says firmly. Tilting his head to one side, Kamui looks up at him, somewhat surprised to find a look of concern marring Asra's features. He quickly looks away.

"I-It's just… I feel so embarrassed now. All of that was so dramatic—"

One of Asra's hands moves to grab his chin, turning his head so Asra can press their lips together, silencing him. He can feel a lot of things being conveyed through that single point of contact, easing his nerves and making his embarrassment feel trivial. After they part, Asra's hand brushes over Kamui's cheek, pushing his bangs behind his ears.

"If this was something you were struggling with, then I'm glad we addressed it. Although I wish it hadn't gone… like that," Asra says, cringing a little at the end. "I didn't exactly make it very easy for anything else to happen, though, did I?" He sighs, leaning his head on Kamui's as he stares out at the water. "I just don't like that I raised my voice at you. That's not something I ever wanted to do."

Kamui hesitates, eyes flickering between the nearly-black waters, and Asra's face, watching the remorse that passes over it. "I didn't know your voice got that loud," Kamui jokes, only a bit more quiet and meek than he wanted. The distinctly uncomfortable look that forms on Asra's face doesn't feel good to see. "Um, it's alright, though. I know you weren't mad at me or anything."

"I could never be," Asra says.

"Not even if I… I don't know, what if I made out with Count Lucio's ghost?"

An expression of pure disgust crosses Asra's face, prompting Kamui to stifle a laugh. Asra grits his teeth as he says, "I respect your decisions, even if they're wrong." _That_ has Kamui bursting into giggles.

Looking upwards towards the starry night sky, Kamui's grin slowly starts to fade. "H-Hey, um… I'm just wondering, now, after all that… what would you have done if nothing had ever happened between us? If I had stayed with Julian all this time, and never realized how I felt about you?"

Asra swallows thickly, staring out at the stars overhead. Slowly, he says, "That's fine. Ilya's always been a good match for you."

There's something so self-deprecating in his tone that Kamui can't help but frown. "You could really just accept that? After everything you gave up?"

"I didn't say it would be easy, but… I just want you to be happy. If I don't make you happy, then I'd rather you were with someone else."

"You do make me happy," Kamui says, rising up and turning to face Asra as best as he can in the tight space they've crammed themselves into. He ends up with a knee between Asra's thighs. Holding tight to the one hand still in his grasp, he says, "When you're not around, I feel like… like I'm missing a part of myself. Nothing feels quite right. I start to think all these terrible things, but then you come back and I'm just so happy that you're around that I can't remember why I ever felt bad to begin with."

"I'm sorry," Asra says quietly. "I feel the same way. In the past, we were…" He hesitates, the weight of Kamui's immensely interested gaze pressuring him to continue. "The kind of couple people complain about," he finishes.

Bemused, Kamui frowns, asking, "What do you mean?"

"Inseparable. Always touching. An 'I love you' every three seconds. Pet names. You know." He flashes Kamui a wicked grin. "The insufferable kind."

Kamui smiles brightly behind his hand. "You sound proud of it," he notes. "Was it on purpose?"

"Mmm, only sometimes." Asra's expression starts to sober, becoming more contemplative as he looks past Kamui, up at the stars. "Going from that, it was hard for me to adjust. I didn't realize until after you were gone just how central you really were to my life. It wasn't that we were wholly dependant on each other, it was just… a huge adjustment to make."

Nodding slowly, Kamui settles down, straddling Asra's thigh. "I would have done the same thing," he says. A pale hand raises, resting over his chest. Quietly, he adds, "No matter the cost."

Asra just stares at him for a moment, expression impassive with his lips parted. Despite that, a lot of things occur to Kamui all at once—not just that his words don't come as a surprise, but that the same words had gone through Asra's head before. Maybe even crossed his lips. The weight of his gaze begins to translate to something distinctly uncomfortable with the knowledge.

"No one should do what I did," Asra says. "Too many people got hurt because of it."

"You don't regret it, do you?" Kamui asks, a bit sheepishly.

"No," Asra responds immediately, without the slightest hint of uncertainty. "I regret the way I went about it, but I don't regret the outcome, and I never will."

The firmness of his tone has Kamui exhaling a relieved sigh. "Well, I would still do it. Even if people got hurt."

"I'm not surprised. You're a bit… dark," he says, looking away. "I'm glad you never had to make that kind of decision. It was one of the worst times of my life."

Kamui goes to open his mouth when something startlingly loud explodes in the distance behind them, nearly knocking their heads together as Kamui jolts, turning toward the source of the noise. Colorful fireworks burst in the sky overhead, popping in spectacular patterns before fizzling out, just to be replaced with more. The sounds have Kamui flinching every single time, but that doesn't kill his enjoyment of it too much.

Blindly, he reaches for Asra's hand, which rises to grasp onto his before he gets too lost. Without looking away, he says, "It's beautiful." He feels Asra squeeze his hand, and he returns the gesture, watching the spectacle of lights sparking through the night sky.

"It is," Asra agrees. Blinking, Kamui manages to tear his eyes away long enough to glance back at Asra, who isn't looking at the fireworks at all. Warmth blossoms across Kamui's cheeks as he looks away. He lets out a flustered laugh.

"That's cheesy, Asra."

Asra leans heavily to one side, subsequently pushing Kamui closer to the seat to his left. "What is?" Asra teasingly asks, playing dumb as Kamui giggles, attempting to push him off, but to no avail.

"Haven't you ever heard of personal space?"

"Don't know her," Asra quips, grinning mischievously as his hands find their way to Kamui's hips. He twists to face Asra, which just prompts him to wrap his arms around Kamui's mid-back. Leaning his full weight on Kamui's chest, he smugly leans in for a kiss, which he first aims to the tip of Kamui's nose, reveling in the sound of his giggles before going for his lips proper.

That's also when the seat they're leaning on snaps, causing them to fall backwards. Asra acts fast, putting his hand behind Kamui's head before it can slam against the bottom of the boat. The two turn to look at the wreckage, finding the bench completely detached from one side, snapped in half with the other end hanging from a paper-thin attachment to the opposite wall.

Asra picks up both halves, tearing the one off with little to no effort. He looks them over for a bit before saying, "Oh. Wood rot."

"Uh," Kamui says, "Do you think the owners are going to be mad?"

After a bit of deliberation, Asra carelessly tosses the wood behind him and into the sea. "I don't care," he says, as Kamui laughs. Without hesitation, he dives back in, capturing Kamui's mouth in a kiss which quickly turns heated, Asra's hands pinning both of Kamui's to the floor of the boat.

Leaning back, Asra peers over the edge of the boat, saying, "We're almost at the docks."

"Shame," Kamui says, disregarding whatever it was he'd just said in favor of tugging Asra back down towards him. Following a rather impassioned kiss, Asra laughs, causing Kamui to aim his mouth elsewhere, peppering kisses wherever he can reach. Asra doesn't try to stop him, rather, the contented smile on his face suggests he's revelling in the attention.

"Kamui," he says, a trace of a laugh in his tone. With some manner of reluctance, Kamui leaves one final kiss to the magician's neck before pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. He brings one of Kamui's hands up against his mouth, lips quirking into a smile. He gazes affectionately down at his apprentice. "You're absolutely stunning," he says, smiling even wider as color blossoms over Kamui's pale cheeks. "Did you know that?"

"Um… I don't know. Try saying it again," Kamui coyly suggests.

With a low chuckle, Asra kisses each of Kamui's fingers in turn, punctuating each one with a compliment on his apprentice's beauty that has him laughing and turning even redder. After going through all five, he kisses his wrist. "You know what else?"

"Hmm?"

Asra pauses, teasingly drawing the moment out. The look in his amethyst eyes is tender as he gazes down at his apprentice's—his _lover's_ —face. Their noses brush as Asra leans in closer. "I love you," he says, smiling sweetly. Kamui can't help but laugh, leaning up on his elbows to close the distance between them.

That's when a dark blur suddenly collides with Asra's head, rocking the boat as he's knocked into the side of it. A squeal breaks its way out of Kamui's throat as he races to grab onto him, despite there being no actual danger of him going overboard. Now sitting up, they can both see that the boat's already at the beach. For how long, neither of them know, but the fireworks are still going off in the distance.

"What was that?" Kamui asks, eyes darting around, surveying the area.

"Something sharp," Asra groans, which has Kamui whipping back around, expecting to see blood, but finding nothing worrying, apart from a dizzy look. He goes to respond when suddenly he hears a very distinct cawing sound. It draws both their attentions to the source of the noise; a black-feathered bird circling them overhead.

Right as they notice him, he dives back in towards them, directing himself at Kamui first and foremost. Panicking, Kamui stands, attempting to jump out of the boat and away from the feathery menace, but he isn't anywhere near fast enough. If not for Asra grabbing onto him, he might have toppled over backwards.

Feathers fly, smacking them both in the face before the raven sinks his talons into the fabric of Kamui's jacket, tugging. Kamui trips out of the boat, with Asra keeping him from faceplanting into the sand. Following the direction of the raven's tugging, they take several hurried steps toward the city.

"That's… Malak?" Asra says, squinting at the bird. He was awfully hard to see in the dead of night, being entirely black, and all.

"You _know_ this bird?"

"He looks like the one that always followed Ilya around," Asra explains. Seconds later, his eyes widen, realization setting in.

Malak releases Kamui's jacket, taking to the skies with a loud series of caws. He flies straight ahead, drawing the magicians' attention to the palace looming in the horizon.

 

 

 

 

The palace entrance is wide open, citizens in masks and finery flooding the streets. All manner of booths are set up around the square, selling costumes, masks, and the occasional edible treat. This time, Kamui is much more considerate on his way through the crowd, avoiding knocking into anyone on his way inside.

Despite that, he nearly runs right into Portia as he turns a corner inside the halls.

"Kamui!" she exclaims, nearly tripping over backwards. "Thank goodness you're back. There's a situation."

"Where's Julian?" Kamui asks, cutting right to the chase as a sense of dread grows inside of him. At his question, Portia's face goes from harried to distressed.

"Someone took him!" she exclaims. "They were bringing him to his room but someone intercepted them and—"

Malak takes that opportunity to reappear, speeding past Portia who nearly goes into cardiac arrest at the sight of him. Anxiously rambling off something about birds and the masquerade, it takes Kamui, with Asra close at his heel, rushing past her to get her back on track. Without much thought, she chases after them.

Arriving at the library, where Malak pecks impatiently at the locks, reveals an already unlocked door. Instantly Kamui pieces everything together. Judging by the beeline Asra makes for the dungeon's hidden entrance, he's reached the same conclusion. As the bookshelf door swings open, Portia gapes, stunned, mumbling something about it not being on her map. Asra tugs open the door enough for everyone to squeeze through, and they dart down into the dark depths of the dungeon halls.

Reaching the lift, Kamui's eyes zero in on the lock. The library door might have been more-or-less wide open, but this one was locked tight, as it always was. For a split second Kamui considers they've gotten it wrong. But nothing made as much sense as this, so this was going to have to work.

Kamui darts several steps ahead, magic sparking at his fingertips. The effort he puts in feels as if it steals all the breath from his body, but it's worth it; the lock, the horrid, taunting, _insulting_ lock that made out his boyfriend to be some kind of monster, begins to melt before bursting, bits of metal liquidizing and burning the stone floor while the rest cracks apart. The lift door drifts limply to one side, allowing Kamui to shove it open.

He slips inside first, catching the look of shock and something like intimidation or amazement or both on Asra's face before tugging him into lift. They don't fit at all, but with Asra holding onto him, and Kamui grasping onto a bar inside the lift, they squeeze as far in as they can anyway.

Instantly upon reaching the bottom, several sounds can be made out at once. The clattering of metal, dull thuds, and a faint, eerie voice alongside a louder one, torn between panic and bravado.

"Listen, I know I wasn't exactly your favorite person, but, this is a little—Whoa! Hold on!"

Without thinking, Kamui rushes into the lab proper, ignoring the rancid smell to the best of his ability. Inside, a variety of tables and tools have been knocked over in a chaotic array, including the observation table which Kamui honestly thought was attached to the floor. The leather restrains are all undone, with at least one of them no longer attached to the table.

Not far from that, along a line of tipped over trays and splayed out medical implements, Julian rises up from the floor. There's a deep gash along his forehead which is actively oozing blood down his face and the side of his neck, alongside several smaller ones crossing his chest. Several steps ahead of him, Valdemar stalks around the pile of tools, stained-red bonesaw in hand.

As if absolutely nothing is going on, Valdemar eyes the two newcomers, regarding them with a wide smile. Julian only glances in their direction briefly.

"Are you here for the show? I'm afraid you're a bit late," Valdemar says, head jerking to one side. A gloved finger draws up along the blunt half of their saw. "Or perhaps a bit early—"

Without giving them time to say anything else, Kamui grits his teeth, sparks dancing on his fingertips before a harsh burst of magic is fired in Valdemar's direction. It feels aggressive and powerful as it courses through his veins, but once the spell leaves his body, it fizzles out in seconds. Startled, he stares down at his hand in confusion.

Looking up, he finds Valdemar with a brow raised, about to open their mouth when suddenly, a glass jar collides with their head, shattering on impact and sending them stumbling back several steps. Their saw clatters to the ground at their feet. Thick shards embed themselves into their flesh like leather punctured by a sewing needle. The liquid the jar once contained sizzles ineffectually before seemingly evaporating.

Kamui turns to find Asra's arm outstretched, a cold look of disdain darkening his features. Turning back, he watches as Julian rushes forward, kicking the saw aside with bare feet before tackling Valdemar. A brief struggle later and he's got them in a headlock.

"Kamui! Now!" he shouts. Still a little shellshocked from everything going on around him, it takes a second to react; without his magic, he's forced to improvise, his eyes landing on the bonesaw not far from his feet as if drawn to it.

However, right as he goes for it, Asra grabs onto his arm. Despite the layers of fabric between them, he feels something; an almost overwhelming vibration, slightly burning him as the magic courses through his veins. This time, the sparks jump to his fingertips with a mere thought.

The spell charges towards Valdemar almost too quickly for Julian to move out of the way; still too weak, still too uncontrolled, but enough to have them convulsing before falling limp to the ground. Julian rolls away from them, grabbing the first thing he can find, which just so happens to be an emptied tool tray. He kneels poised at the ready; Kamui would've struck already, had he been in Julian's position. Seeing the doctor in such a state, half naked and bleeding had his blood boiling. To have the person responsible at his mercy? He wouldn't hesitate.

Their body twitches as they begin to right themself, a small amount of drool dripping from their mouth. For a moment, they seem all-too vulnerable, like maybe they wouldn't get up at all. But then, too suddenly for anyone to stop them, Valdemar darts to their feet, crossing the room in a blur. Kamui attempts to make a dive for them that proves unsuccessful, nearly bruising his skin on the edge of the observation table in the process.

Balancing along its edge, he turns to see Valdemar darting directly for the exit. After reaching for the nearest object to brandish as a weapon, he gives chase, only for Asra to stop him at the door.

"Forget about them," he says. The disappointment of being deprived of a chance at vicious revenge is apparently strong enough that Asra catches onto it, a dark look falling over his eyes. "That's not a path you want to go down, Kamui."

It's really hard for him to agree with that—not with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, dizzy and trembling with the urge to do something. Something—something aggressive. His nails press harshly against the item held within his grasp, and absently he recognizes it as a tool tray.

Asra takes a step forward, placing a hand on Kamui's shoulder. Instantly the rage broiling inside him ebbs away, a sense of warmth and safety washing over him that make him wonder if this was another one of his soothing spells. There was no aura, but that didn't mean anything.

"I'll go make sure they haven't done anything to the lift. Or to…" Asra trails off, frowning in confusion as the gears turn in his eyes. Blinking, he turns back to glance somewhere over Kamui's shoulder. "Just focus on him, okay? I'll be waiting upstairs."

At his request, Kamui's brows raise, whirling around to find Julian kneeling on the ground not far from the toppled observation table. A pale hand rests atop it, pushing like he was attempting to stand, but not having much luck.

In an instant, Kamui is at his side, gently setting the tray down beside them. For a moment, his hands flit about, unsure on how to approach this. Julian spares him a reassuring smile, an unexpectedly effective balm for his nerves that has him relaxing, hands settling on Julian's waist. Even from here, he could feel the way the man was shivering, or shaking, or both.

"I'm alright, Kamu—"

Arms wrap tight around his frame with such a force that it nearly barrels him over. The hand nearest the observation table grabs onto one of its legs, steadying them both. Kamui's palms smooth over Julian's back, feeling firsthand the hale warmth of his skin, the tremble. The way his chest presses into Kamui's as he breathes. He repositions his head, placing his ear over Julian's chest to hear his heart beating, a bit too fast but very much alive.

The embrace is quickly returned, Julian's arms enveloping him and pressing him firm against his chest. It burns right behind his eyes; amazing that he could still cry, even after all he'd been through that night alone.

Once he feels he's gotten his fill of listening to Julian's heart even out, he turns his head, pressing kiss after kiss. "I'm so glad you're alive," he says tearfully. Any other time and he'd hate the sound of his voice, but right now he felt all-too justified. _Thank you for choosing me,_ he wants to say, _thank you for choosing life,_ but he can't, it's too much, and instead he nuzzles into the hairs dotting Julian's chest.

"I'm sorry if I worried you," Julian says gently. Something between a scoff and a laugh comes out of Kamui's mouth.

" _'If'?_ "

"Oh, dear. I know that voice. I'm in for it, aren't I?"

"You know you are," Kamui responds, watery voice stuck between upset and thankful, so thankful that they could even be having this conversation at all. He pulls back, Julian's arms loosening enough to allow them to sit face-to-face. Tears glisten in Kamui's eyes as he says, "Don't ever do something like this again, okay? If you do, I'll track your spirit down and show it a very unique kind of hell."

Despite the threat, the look in Julian's eyes is nothing other than tender as he gazes down at Kamui. He smiles; the kind of smile Kamui loves to see, a genuine smile instead of his usual cocky grin. "I know you would," he says. "But I wouldn't dream of going anywhere without you." Color spreads across his cheeks as his expression turns a shade more bashful. "I… I would hope that we would be together, wherever… you see this going."

Kamui pulls his arms back to place his hands on either side of Julian's face. Looking, unwaveringly, into his eyes, he says, "You're stuck with me, Devorak."

Julian laughs, bringing a smile to Kamui's face. Julian leans in, their foreheads touching and noses brushing. "I would think it's the other way around," he quips.

"Well, I'm attached, so. You're screwed," Kamui says, as Julian chuckles again. With a smile, Kamui leans forward, bringing their lips together. What starts as something chaste quickly becomes otherwise; the affectionate act stirs something in Kamui's chest, replacing the previously jovial tone of their interaction with something desperate, almost painful. Red-painted nails dig slightly into Julian's neck as he kisses him with such a fervor, it would seem as if they hadn't seen each other in years.

The feeling appears mutual; Julian holds him tight, a hand carding into his hair and stroking nails over his scalp in _just_ the right way to make him purr. Kamui tugs Julian's lip between his teeth, the resulting moan rolling down his body in a shiver. He wants—a lot more than this, but…

Right as he thinks that, Julian's body begins to sag more heavily against him, their lips parting with heated breaths. The look in Julian's silver eyes are dizzy from something other than desire, Kamui realizes.

"Sorry," Julian breathes. "Um—I think I might have lost a lot of blood." He recovers quickly, but Kamui hesitates in resuming what they were doing before. Ruby eyes roaming over the thick cut on his forehead, down to the three lines over his chest, he finds all of them to _still_ be bleeding, slowly but steadily.

"Oh—I, um. I'm not very good at healing magic yet," Kamui says. "But, I'll… I'll try."

Julian nods. "Let's go somewhere else," he suggests. "In… in my office. I need to… tell you something."

"Yeah," Kamui agrees. "We _do_ need to talk."

With a grimace, Julian pushes himself more upright. "That didn't go very well when _I_ said it."

Supporting Julian's weight to the best of his ability, they head into the office, resting immediately on the unmade cot. Kamui smooths out the blankets out of habit. There's an amused look on Julian's face when he turns back around, but he skips reacting to that in favor of focusing on his wounds, instead.

"I don't think magic works very well down here," he explains before tending to the gash crossing nearly the full width of Julian's forehead. It resists his attempts, taking far more effort than should ever be required to make even the slightest difference. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Julian gripping the bedsheets, lip between his teeth. It probably hurt, but—there was nothing he could do about that. Muttering out an apology is the best he can think of.

He brings the wound to a stable condition—in other words, not bleeding—before doing the same to the cuts on his chest, which require considerably less work. A sigh of relief passes Julian's lips once they're done. After explaining that he doesn't have the energy to clean the blood, Julian nods.

They sit in silence for just a moment before Julian speaks up. "Listen, Kamui. I. Th-This might be… hard to believe, and a lot to take in, but… W-Well, you deserve to know, that…"

"That I got sick, and died of the plague?" Kamui finishes for him. Silver eyes wide with surprise stare down at him, mouth agape. Julian shakes his head in disbelief.

"You already knew? And here I've been trying to plan out how to break the news."

"I found out recently," Kamui explains. "In The Hanged Man's realm. I saw you there. You said something about The Count, that I was your apprentice, and… Julian, you have to know that what happened to me wasn't your fault. It was my choice, my negligence. Not yours."

His words have the opposite effect than he'd like, but the look of sorrow and regret on Julian's face doesn't surprise him, either. "I wish I could believe that," Julian says. "Even back then… you told me not to blame myself. But that was just like you, to try and make me feel better. I couldn't see how it was anyone's fault but mine."

"I could have ran away."

"With Asra?" Kamui blinks, staring up at him in silent question. "I remember the night you came to me and told me he fled. I always wondered why you didn't go with him."

_You weren't willing to leave Ilya behind_

"I don't actually remember anything," Kamui says. He stares down at the stone floor, noting the presence of a large ink stain by the desk. "Asra told me what happened, but that's it. And, anyway, whatever the reason, it doesn't matter now."

"Does it not? Could you really forgive me so easily?" Julian asks, brows furrowed as he regards his former apprentice. "After everything I've done?"

"There's nothing to forgive. You didn't kill me, or anyone else. There were no steps you could have taken, no precautions you skipped over, no nights of sleep you could have skipped to bring yourself closer to the answer. The plague wasn't fair and you did everything you could to help the sick and the dying find peace. I don't know about you, but that sounds like the opposite of a sin to me, and… I don't remember, but I feel pretty confident in saying that I'm sure you made my final days a lot better just by being there. Even if you didn't… know. Even if I didn't tell you."

Silver eyes widen, Julian's lips moving soundlessly before his eyes well up with tears. A hand raises to cover his mouth as his brows furrow, creating an oddly serious scowl as he turns away, staring at the wall opposite the bed. Kamui places a hand on his bicep, confused and concerned by his reaction.

"Um, are you alright? I didn't mean to upset you," he says. In response, Julian ducks his head, wiping carefully at his eyes to avoid smudging his makeup.

"Sorry," he says, almost reflexively. Blinking rapidly, he raises his head, looking a slight bit teary-eyed still. "I just… I think I needed to hear that."

"Oh," Kamui says. His hand slides down until it rests over Julian's wrist. "That's good, then. You're… you're really good, Julian."

"Now you're trying to butter me up," Julian laughs. The sound brings a small smile to Kamui's face. A cold hand raises to gently grasp Kamui's jaw, tilting his head back slightly. "You're truly amazing, you know that?"

The praise warms Kamui's cheeks, making him feel oddly jittery. "You're not so bad, either," he jokes. His voice isn't as steady as he'd like, but if Julian notices, he doesn't react.

He can feel the shape of Julian's smile against his lips, then against his cheek as he giggles, loosely wrapping his arms around Julian's neck. "There's the sound I love to hear," Julian purrs, the low tones of his voice sending a shiver down Kamui's spine.

"Everything you say is like music to me," Kamui blurts out. It feels like a bit much, somehow, and he feels his face burning even hotter in response. But Julian just smiles, the kiss he presses to Kamui's jaw slow and more intimate than before. Julian makes a low sound like a laugh or a hum.

"I seem to remember you saying my voice is 'like smooth silk'," he teases.

"In my defense, I was bleeding out at the time, but I'm not going to take it back, either, because I'm right."

Julian hums. "What was it you once said… something about the sound of my voice keeping you awake at night?" Frowning, Kamui tilts his head to catch Julian's eye, confused. To his knowledge, he had never said that.

"When was this?"

"I believe it was… four years ago," Julian says, looking off to the side in thought. Kamui's eyes widen with interest, automatically sitting up straighter and giving the doctor his full attention. That's when something occurs to him, suddenly.

"Wait. I said stuff like that to you when I was your apprentice?" The thought that maybe he was just that flirty back in the day wouldn't surprise him, but… the resulting look of confusion on Julian's face doesn't seem to line up with that.

"Asra didn't tell you," he deduces, leaning back and taking his hand with him.

"Tell me what?"

Something doleful falls over Julian's expression. "I don't know how much I can safely say, but… we were… a lot more than master and apprentice," he says carefully. "We had… something."

"Something real?" Kamui asks. Their eyes meet, a soft smile tugging at Julian's lips.

"I'd like to think so," he says, eyes flickering briefly down over Kamui's frame, "It was more than I've ever had. With you, I always felt so light, like nothing else mattered."

He pauses, trailing his hands down to Kamui's and slowly interlocking their fingers. The doctor's hands are calloused and cold against his. Something affectionate tugs at Kamui's chest as he ponders if he can warm them up in his grasp.

Julian continues, staring down at their hands as he speaks. "You're like this… light, and I've been stumbling around blindly in the dark without you there to guide me. I always wondered what I was missing, what I'd been forgetting, but it was you, the whole time. You're the answer I was looking for."

Ruby eyes widen, his pale, rosy lips moving soundlessly, stunned. A lump forms in his throat. "Y-You can't just say things like that. You're gonna make me cry," Kamui says, feeling his eyes start to water as if to prove his point.

In response, Julian leans in, pressing their foreheads together so their noses rest side-by-side. It's more affectionate a gesture than Kamui's used to from the doctor, and he _loves_ it, pressing in closer as encouragement. Cold lips press against a warm cheek, sending a fluttery feeling through Kamui's chest.

They remain like that for a moment before Julian pulls away, reaching up to brush the hair out of Kamui's eyes. There must be something especially embarrassing in the way Kamui gazes up at him, because it brings a bright pink hue to his cheeks, eyes nervously flickering away and then back. He sits back, putting some distance between them. However, Kamui just ends up drifting forward, and Julian unknowingly mirrors the action, and it's almost silly how distractible he seems to be where Kamui is concerned, looking now a lot more interested in Kamui's lips than anything else.

With a considerable effort, Julian looks away. "Well," he says, more to distract himself than anything, "As delightful a setting as this is, we'd best head back out. Don't want to keep Asra waiting, do we?"

"True. He might think we've both died. Again," Kamui jokes.

Despite the way Julian laughs, he says, "Awfully soon, don't you think?" Kamui shrugs.

"Making jokes is how I cope," he says. He stands, instinctively going to wipe off his pant legs but stopping just short upon seeing how dirty they are. This also leads him to notice the blood on his jacket and bits of his hair with a cringe. "Oh, I need a bath."

"I think we all do," Julian agrees, rising to his feet and heading for the door. He holds it open for Kamui, who smiles coyly up at him before heading through the doorway. They manage to locate all the missing articles of Julian's clothing laid out on a table nearby; the messy state Kamui finds them in nearly sends him into a fit.

"This is how you wrinkle silk," he grumbles, smoothing out Julian's undershirt as the man slides back into his boots with a laugh.

"There's something that's still bothering me," Julian says as he pulls on said shirt. From his spot leaned against a nearby table, Kamui tilts his head in question. "If you died, then how are you still here?"

"Oh. It's, um. Asra told me about that," he responds, running a hand through his hair as he turns away. Something about it felt too personal to tell Julian about, but maybe that was just the nature of everything that had happened at the Lazaret. It was… a lot. Which felt like a terrible understatement, but still. He racks his brain for the most simple and condensed way to deliver the information, settling on, "You remember the Count's private dining area? The ritual Asra told us about?"

"I do," Julian confirms, slipping on his overcoat. "The Count wanted a new body, free of the plague."

Kamui nods, meeting his eyes. "I don't know all the details, but Asra told me he made a deal at the ritual that brought me back to life."

Julian frowns as he processes the information. It isn't until he's fully dressed that he turns back to Kamui, who's become a bit nervous under the weight of the man's silence. It's hard to tell what he's thinking.

"So, Lucio and Asra wanted the same thing," Julian says, appearing thoughtful as he stares aimlessly down at the floor. "Is it possible the ritual was actually for you?"

Frowning, Kamui says, "You think he hijacked it? Julian, I don't know what life working in a palace run by the Count was like, but I have trouble thinking anyone could have managed something like that right under his nose."

"I don't know. The Count was never a magician, but Asra was. Anything Asra had said would have been taken as gospel."

"Were they that close?" Kamui asks, finding such a thing hard to believe. In response, Julian sends him the flattest look he's ever seen on the man's face. The tone of his voice when he speaks is just as deadpan.

"If you asked Lucio, they were the best of friends."

"…And if you asked Asra?"

"I think he'd just make this face," Julian says, before narrowing his eyes in a glare and curling his lip. It's a stunningly accurate portrayal of Asra. At any other time, Kamui might have clapped. Instead, he can't help but laugh, which Julian seems pleased by.

"Either way," Kamui says, "I think we should actually ask _him_ about it, don't you?"

 

 

 

 

The hallway is empty once they reach the top. Kamui stamps down on the concern that threatens to rise in him at the sight, suggesting they check the library before jumping to any conclusions. Thankfully they find what they're looking for; Asra sits perched on one of the plush chairs, legs crossed at the knee. Portia is nowhere to be found, but he's sure there's a good reason for that. Nothing to worry about.

"Asra," he says, getting the magician's attention as Julian closes the hidden entrance behind them. Asra stirs, blinking rapidly as he comes back to attention, turning to look at the two men from over his shoulder. He rises from his chair, stepping around the side of it. Now that everything's settled down a bit, it's easy to see how exhausted he looks. Kamui experiences a pang of sympathy, just barely suppressing the desire to suggest they go and lie down for… the next three days, perhaps. "We need to talk to you," he says instead.

Asra makes a face like he doesn't like the sound of that at all, before schooling it into something more neutral. "Okay," he says calmly. Looking to the seats behind him, he adds, "We can do it here."


	14. Temperance - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been 70 years...
> 
> seriously though this chapter was really difficult for me for some reason??? and my ADD has me working on 985969 different fic ideas at once so this one didn't always take priority, bleh.
> 
> In other news! I've started uploading a Prequel Fic for this called The Tempest, which you can find at the link below! It has shorter and more easily digestible chapters, I hope you enjoy it as well!  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21870064

They gather around the seating at the center of the library, with Asra curling comfortably sideways in a nearby armchair, while Kamui and Julian take the couch. Kamui can't help but perch on the very edge, reminding himself that this is all-business. To his right, Julian sits back, crossing his legs at the knee.

"Something on your mind?" Asra asks. Hesitating, Kamui glances over Asra's expression, taking in the hint of dread in his eyes. He couldn't be sure what that was about. After sparing Julian a quick glance, he parts his lips to speak.

"I've been thinking," Kamui starts, which clearly wasn't a good starter as the look in Asra's eyes grows worse, and he can't fathom why. "It seems like you know more about the banquet at the last masquerade than either of us do."

"The Count was never a magician," Julian adds, "So where did he get the grand idea to do a magic ritual from?"

Tension eases out of Asra's form. "Me," he says. "He didn't want his old body anymore. A doctor couldn't do that for him, but a magician doesn't play by the same rules. Lucio wanted me to get him a new body, and he would give me anything I needed to make it happen." He smirks. "But he made a mistake."

"Blindly trusting you," Kamui guesses, confirmed by the slight nod Asra sends his way. The card at Lucio's place setting at the banquet comes to mind; as much as he identified with The Devil, and even though Asra named Death as a better match… Kamui was sure the place setting didn't lie.

"The ritual would create a new body, just like he asked. But I wasn't letting him have it."

Kamui's hand flies up to rest over his heart.

"But the ritual failed," Julian points out. "Something else must have happened, and whatever it was, Lucio wasn't too happy about it."

"What makes you say that?" Asra questions.

"Let's just say I have a hunch," Julian bitterly responds. Frowning, Kamui sends him a look, but he's not looking at either of them. Kamui turns back to Asra, who appears equally perplexed, before lightly shaking his head and getting back on task.

"It _did_ fail. I didn't remember all the details, but now I think I understand," Asra says, appearing thoughtful as he stares down at the low table in front of him. "There were empty chairs at the banquet. If the spell had gone through, something terrible could have happened, so I must have sabotaged it somehow."

"Terrible, how?" Julian asks, his attention back on the fluffy-haired magician. "Missing arms and legs terrible, or everyone would have died terrible?"

"It would be impossible to predict," Asra says. "The body might not have had a soul. It might not had been recognizable as a person. Or, yes, everyone at the table could have died. Maybe the entire palace would have caught fire."

"Spells aren't something you want to mess with," Kamui adds, looking to Julian as he does so and catching the mixed look of alarm and an almost morbid curiosity present on his face. Their eyes catch. "You never know when one might blow up in your face."

"It's easier if you know what you're doing," Asra says. "But there was no preparing for a ritual like that. Deals with an Arcana, especially one like The Devil, carry a high risk."

"Don't I know it," Julian says bitterly. The doctor's scowl vanishes near immediately after, as a look of realization crosses his features. "Wait. Lucio didn't need to be a magician at all. I did it within hours of having the plague; he was sick for months."

A frown appears on Asra's face, one that clearly shows how much he doesn't like where this vein of logic is headed. "What are you saying?" he asks.

"I'll admit, I'm not entirely sure," Julian says, a hand on his chin. "It just strikes me as odd that he would need you to do that for him at all."

"Maybe he didn't…" Kamui starts, halting as a certain painting springs to mind. "Wait, you're right. He already knew about The Devil, didn't he? Why didn't he do it himself?"

He looks to Asra for answers, but the magician is lost in thought and doesn't even notice. Dread begins to gnaw at Kamui, but he tries his best to shake it off.

"This doesn't matter right now," Kamui says dismissively. He turns, meeting Asra's eye. The magician appears distracted, but he's struggling to pay attention anyway. "You sabotaged the ritual once, can you do it again?"

"I don't remember what I did the first time," Asra admits.

"Well, then we'll have to investigate," Kamui says with an air of determination. "The ritual happened at the last masquerade. Attending this one could help jog your memory, like the dungeons did for Julian."

Asra's eyes widen a fraction. "You're right," he says.

"Then that's what we'll do," Julian says. "We'll have to work fast. The Count can't be allowed to return, or we'll have another plague on our hands." That gets Asra's full attention in a flash, eyes wide.

"What do you mean?"

"The cure," Julian responds, "Don't you think it's interesting that the plague went away the same day the Count burned?"

It all clicks in Kamui's mind suddenly, and judging by the look on Asra's face, he's not alone. "Of course," Asra says, making a face like he's embarrassed to have missed something so obvious. "I was too busy focusing on…" his eyes slide over to Kamui, "Other things, that I didn't even notice the timing."

"You were going to kill him to cure everyone," Kamui says, remembering the doctor's words from before, in the world that had felt so much like a dream at the time. "Someone beat you to it."

"Maybe not someone," Asra absently says, prompting the two men to turn to him with questioning looks. But he doesn't respond, or even notice, growing lost in thought instead.

"God," Kamui sighs. "It feels so bad that I was right about this. Lucio really _did_ start the plague."

  
  
  
  


Heading for the guest chambers first and foremost, the trio remains mostly silent. Kamui walks between them, itching to grab one or both of their hands. The desire fades into the background as they encounter the tall, feathered form of the Countess, speaking to a servant whose words anxiously tumble out of them a mile a minute. The polite smile on Nadia's face is strained, but grows more genuine once she spots the trio approaching. She says something to the servant before stepping away; said servant being plainly reluctant to let her leave, but as soon as they see where she's headed, they seem to get the point, and run off.

"Well well, do my eyes deceive me, or do the dead walk among the living?" Nadia greets, her crimson eyes landing on Julian, who returns her playful smirk with a grin.

"Sorry to disappoint, Countess, but it didn't quite stick," Julian quips.

"Perhaps we should try it again," she jokes, quirking a brow. Her gaze shifts from him down to the two magicians as her smile vanishes. "Forgive my manners, but the three of you look like you've seen better days."

Kamui looks down at himself, from the sand and ash staining his clothes, to the blood on his jacket and strands of his hair. Glancing to Asra reveals a lot of the same thing; they both looked dirty, and, in the better lighting inside the palace, Kamui could see the trails down Asra's cheeks from where he'd been crying earlier. A bath was in order, but Kamui wasn't looking forward to having to scrub himself down in the guest chambers again. He was far too weary for such a thing. It was too much to even have to think about.

"Why don't you borrow my private bath?" Nadia suggests. Surprise flashes in Kamui's ruby eyes, and he stares up at her, wondering if she'd read his mind. It wasn't the first or even second time this offer had been made, yet it was far more appealing this time than ever before.

"That sounds divine," Kamui dreamily sighs, reassured over his hedonistic desire for luxury when Nadia laughs, clearly approving of his response. It doesn't really surprise him; he remembers the look on her face when she was offering him jewels and furs.

"I hope that it will be to your liking," she says, getting a touch of _that_ look on her face as she says it. But before it can give him any ideas, she aims a sly look in their direction, eyes dancing with mischief. "It's big enough for three," she adds. Kamui perks up.

"Then we can all go together," Kamui says, without hesitation. He glances to Asra and Julian in turn. "Right?"

"Sounds fun," Asra says, with a playful smile to match. As far as Kamui could tell, he didn't seem bothered. When their dual attentions land on Julian, they find him with an oddly serious and hard to read look. Kamui didn't much care for that look; it seemed to imply the doctor was falling too far into his own head.

"If you're both okay with it," he says, tone entirely too stiff for what Kamui felt should be something fun, not pulling teeth. It worries him—he didn't want to think he was forcing Julian into something he wasn't comfortable with. Again. Even if he claimed the last time hadn't been like that, it was hard for Kamui to believe.

"You don't have to, you know," he says. But Julian offers him a smile, one which Kamui can't refute or see anything hidden behind.

"And miss a chance to take a dip in the Countess' private bath, alongside two— _one_ of the most beautiful people I've ever met? I don't think I'd ever forgive myself."

Kamui smiles back, thoroughly pleased with the compliment. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard Julian comment on his looks like that before, and it made his cheeks warm.

Although, that near slip-up worries him. He avoids looking to his other side in fear of the kind of taut look he'd find on Asra's features. Or maybe he'd look fine, or amused, but Kamui wasn't sure he could be so hopeful. And the fact that he had no idea where the two of his partners stood with each other was exactly why he couldn't be sure if this was a good idea or not. Maybe he'd responded too quickly, stuck on an idealistic fantasy.

It didn't matter now, though. He was left to just go along with it, and see how it played out.

  
  
  
  


The warm hue of the bath's lanterns, combined with the moon and stars filtering in through the windows, cast the room in a romantic light. A low tub is filled with water, tinted gold by the lanterns hanging overhead. Trays and shelves with bottles, sponges, towels, and jars are arranged around the room, with a large mirror along the left wall. The area smells soft and floral.

Kamui turns to see Julian staring out at the stars, gaze distant. He looks beautiful like this, in his element, almost. Under the night sky, the dead of night, mysterious and alluring, but dangerous and unpredictable, too. It doesn't occur to him that he's started to stare until Julian meets his eye, the calm, almost dreamy nature of his expression falling away as he does a double take, a brow raising. A grin crosses his lips as one does on Kamui's; although judging by his reflection in the mirror opposite Julian, his is a lot more like a ridiculous, lovestruck teenager.

"See something you like?" Julian purrs, "And I haven't even started undressing yet."

"I always see something I like when I'm looking at you," Kamui responds. A pale blush settles over Julian's cheeks and nose, yet his smile grows a fraction wider, and he gazes adoringly into Kamui's scarlet eyes.

"I could say the same for you, my dear," Julian says smoothly. His smile vanishes, suddenly, and he looks down over Kamui's features, studying him. There's something weighing on him, but before Kamui can ask what it is, he reaches out, sliding his gloved fingers under Kamui's bangs and brushing them back behind an ear. His hand rests there, cool against Kamui's cheek. "You're alright, aren't you?"

"Says the man who died this morning," Kamui quips. "Aren't your muscles sore?"

"Not at all. I feel great, actually," Julian says. "It's the two of you I'm worried about."

"Stop worrying, Ilya," Asra says from his place on the other side of the room, investigating trays of soaps and shampoos. "I'm fine." The look Julian gives him was surely meant to be one of annoyance; instead, he looks perturbed, brows furrowed and lips thinning.

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't quite believe that," he says, voice tight. He turns back to Kamui with a soft sigh. "Either way, I suppose we should get undressed, shouldn't we? A bath would do us all wonders right now, I think."

"Seeing you undressing would do _me_ wonders right now," Kamui says, attempting a flirtatious tone, although he's a little too tired for it to come across properly. Regardless, Julian grins down at him just as he would any other time, responding by tugging a leather glove off with his teeth.

Suddenly, hands slide over Kamui's collar, urging the jacket from his shoulders. He tilts his head, catching his reflection in the mirror, where Asra is standing close at his back, already divested of his shawl, shirt, and jewelry. Flustered, Kamui finds himself unable to do more than watch as Asra's hands glide down his waist. He glances to Julian; the man is watching them, eyes wide with surprise and lips parted with interest.

Soft lips connect with the bare nape of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Slipping his arms out of his jacket so it hangs limp from his sash, Asra's hands move back up, drawing the cowl up and over his neck. It's discarded carelessly to the floor; somehow, Kamui finds he doesn't care, hardly even noticing to begin with.

Swallowing thickly, he turns into Asra's embrace, leaning in for a kiss only to have the magician move just out of reach. His hands find their way to Asra's hips, sliding sensually down towards the buttons of his pants and making quick work of them. At the same time, Asra deftly removes his belt and shawl. His nose brushes Kamui's neck, and he shivers, body temperature rising. It puts a lot of thoughts into his head, thoughts that got more exciting with the realization that Julian is watching them.

Pale hands glide up over Asra's back in such a way that causes him to arc into Kamui's chest. Soft lips caress the curve of his neck and he sighs blissfully, pressing as close to Asra's body as he can.

And then Asra is taking a step back, despite the way Kamui's hands reach for the waistband of his pants, eager to pull him back. There's a mischievous, knowing grin on his face. Amethyst eyes slide over to somewhere over Kamui's shoulder, and the smile grows. Kamui follows his eyeline to catch it as Julian averts his gaze, face blazing. He quickly gets to work unsnapping his waistcoat and pulling it off, the sleeve snagging on his remaining leather glove, anything to look busy. Kamui smirks, chuckling to himself. The sound has Julian's body stiffening with embarrassment, and he nearly trips trying to get out of his boots.

Once they're all undressed, Julian locates a nearby closet with an absurdly large selection of bathrobes, picking three and carrying them back to where the two magicians rest on the tile near the tub. Asra's fingers are dipped inside the water, testing the temperature and altering it magically as he sees fit. Kamui is the first to notice Julian approach, donning a black and gold chiffon robe. The material stretches across his chest and shoulders in a particularly enticing way. Unfortunately, it also layers in such a way that obscures his lower half.

Folding his legs more comfortably under his body, Kamui watches Julian sit behind and between them, offering up the two robes. They all looked fairly similar, not unlike the last one Kamui remembered borrowing, except these were colored differently. An olive green robe with lighter, yellow-green geometric patterns along the rim is offered up to Asra, who takes it and slips slowly into it. The one held out in Kamui's direction is deep crimson, lacking embroidery but making up for it with a glittery texture.

He accepts the robe, the fabric soft and delicate in his hands. He's too busy staring at it to remember to put it on or say thank you, mesmerized by the way the light catches the glimmering fabric. That's when he catches the look on Julian's face, staring but doing his best to pretend otherwise. He realizes Julian must have been paying attention to his tastes, and was eager to see if Kamui was happy with his choice.

The thought brings a smile to his face, and he leans up to press a kiss to Julian's cheek. "Thank you, darling," he says as he pulls away. The doctor's cheeks color, a pleased smile forming on his face that Kamui can't help but return. Although he was sure he just looked silly again, like in the mirror. Not that it mattered much.

After slipping into the robe, he climbs inside the tub, with Asra leaning back against the rim to his right. The warm water feels divine, coaxing a sigh out of him. Something about it, perhaps the lighting or the soft fabric of his robe, makes him feel like he's inside a dream, watching with lidded eyes as Julian inspects a nearby tray of bath salts. A mixture of them gets poured into the water, and a pleasant scent begins to waft through the air.

"They're not quite like authentic Nevivon salts, but they're close," Julian says.

Kamui nods, leaning his head in his arms, which are crossed over the back of the tub. To his right, Asra says something teasing that he doesn't quite catch, mind drifting as Julian sticks one of his long, pale feet into the tub, testing the temperature. Kamui's eyes drift closed.

His mind wanders, and he starts to wonder: what was it like, having a hometown? Feeling engrained in a culture, in a place, in the people who lived there? Would he ever know? It felt like he'd never know where he came from, or what it meant to him, or whether anyone there missed him. Or maybe it never meant anything to him at all, and if he knew, he'd realize he was better off forgetting.

...Yet he wanted to know that, too. If nothing else, he wanted a reason, an impression. Would Asra ever tell him? Could he handle it, even if they did talk about it?

A hand rubs across his back in slow circles, lulling him into an even deeper relaxation. He cracks an eye open, seeing Julian resting in the water beside him, watching him. Something about the man's expression makes Kamui want to curl up against his chest and fall asleep in his arms. Kamui smiles softly up at him, delighted by the fond look Julian sends him in return.

Shifting to lay his head a bit more comfortably, Kamui reaches for the gold trim along Julian's collar, idly flicking it with his finger. "You're covered in blood," he says, sounding like he'd just woken from a really good nap. Julian chuckles softly.

"It's part of my image," he quips. The low, closed mouth laugh Kamui makes in response sounds flirtatious even in his own ears.

"So dangerous," he purrs. "But seeing as how we're in a bath…" Sitting up and drifting closer to Julian, he smooths his hand across a pale, lightly furry chest, below the fabric of his robe, yet opposite all the now-dried blood. "Let me clean you up a bit."

Julian leans back against the corner of the tub, arms spread out along the rim, putting himself on display. It's all the permission Kamui needs to move in close, quickly locating a plush pink sponge and wetting it. Pulling Julian's robe down over his shoulders, he gets to work. The scarlet washes away easily, staining the water a pale pink.

Not along after he carefully scrubs the blood from around the thick gashes on Julian's chest does he notice the water shifting, adding a third presence to Kamui's left. He turns in time for Asra to hand him a glass jar, different from the one he had earlier. The creamy mixture inside was a swirling of pastel colors. It nearly looked good enough to eat. The label on the side, though written in a foreign language, was enough for Kamui to figure out it was soap.

"Thank you," Kamui says with a soft smile, exchanging a quick kiss with Asra before pouring some of the mixture out onto the sponge. Meanwhile, Asra reaches for something behind him, setting said item behind the tub before climbing out to sit on the rim. Both men keep a curious eye out for him as he folds a leg under himself, leaning forward to peer down at the cuts across Julian's chest.

"Do you want me to heal those for you?" Asra asks. Julian blinks, taken aback.

"Ah… if you want to," he responds, more surprised than anything else. He leans back, trying to position himself for ease of access yet the line of his shoulders is extremely tense as Asra leans in, brushing his fingertips over the cuts. Kamui can see it, his aura, blanketing the wounds like little cocoons, fading away once the gashes have sealed up into nothing, leaving not even a scar. Julian releases a held breath once the spell is over.

Asra leans back afterwards, not lingering for even a half second too long. "There," he says. With a smile, he adds, "I can deal with the one on your head too, once I can see it better."

Julian looks immensely confused, yet still manages to speak fairly smoothly. "Thank you. But you know you don't need to strain yourself for me."

"It's not a big deal," Asra dismisses, staring awkwardly down at the item on the tile beside him—Kamui recognizes it as a bottle he'd picked out before they got into the tub. The label has a lot of flowers drawn onto it, but it's also written in a language Kamui doesn't know, and he can't manage to puzzle any of it out.

Disregarding that, Kamui gently urges Julian's head back in his direction, brushing his hair aside to wipe the blood from his brow, before smoothing the pastel soap over his skin. Julian keeps his right eye closed while Kamui works; something like vanilla mixed with citrus permeates strongly from the soap once its smoothed out, and Kamui can't help but take a moment to sigh pleasantly at the scent.

"Oh, Asra," Kamui purrs, "I already want to eat him, you didn't have to make him smell good, too."

A cheeky smile crosses Asra's lips, and he winks. Julian raises a brow at them.

"What's this about eating…?"

"He's trying to say you're a snack," Asra says very matter-of-factly.

"A full course meal, actually," Kamui gently corrects, while continuing to clean his lover's face of all the dried blood, makeup, and other dirt that's accumulated over his time as a fugitive; which just has him wondering, how often did he bathe in all that time? It couldn't have been easy to find the right opportunity for it.

Certainly, it was nothing this luxurious.

Once his brow is cleaned, Kamui moves immediately onto the rest of him, despite all the blood having washed away in the tub, which Asra clears magically, turning the water a sparkling blue. Kamui lathers the man up in the delightful smelling soap, not being the slightest bit shy about fondling him in the process. Even with Asra busy healing the cut on his forehead, he ends up red in the face, chewing his bottom lip to keep from making any noise. He doesn't seem to notice that Asra's eyes are following the movements of Kamui's hands; between his robes, over a perky pink nipple, which he pays extra attention to under the guise of "cleaning", the soap making the glide of his hands so much softer. The scent makes Kamui's desire to draw it into his mouth so much stronger.

But, time and place. This is the most he would allow himself, without knowing where the line was drawn while Asra was nearby. Although, as far as the magician was concerned, it must not be drawn here.

He begins to rinse Julian off at around the same time that Asra pops the lid on the mysterious bottle, a floral scent wafting out of it right away. It reminds Kamui of the gentle petal of a rose.

Tawny hands comb through the back of Julian's hair. His eyes, previously lidded and dazed, shoot open in an instant. The relaxation in his posture slowly seeps away, replaced with tension. Either his reaction goes unnoticed, or Asra doesn't care, as he doesn't stop, slowly introducing water into Julian's auburn curls.

"Tilt your head back, Ilya."

"Um… alright," Julian croaks, doing as he's told with stiff movements.

Using his magic, Asra pours water through his hair, getting it thoroughly damp before pouring the rosy mixture into his hands. He rubs it into Julian's hair, fingers firm against the man's scalp. The red shampoo slowly shifts to a pale rose the longer its scrubbed in, bubbling up and dripping slightly down his brow. Kamui is quick to wipe it away.

Despite his initial tension, the borderline scalp massage has him easing up again, likely aided by Kamui's hands along his bare skin, smooth and creamy with soap. The word pampering springs to Kamui's mind. The blissed out look on the doctor's face as he's seemingly too distracted to be nervous anymore further aligns with that word.

Following one particularly long stroke of Julian's hair, his eyes flutter open, and he asks, "What's happening, right now?"

Kamui says, "Spoiling," at the same time that Asra says, "Bathing." Their eyes meet, and Kamui raises a brow.

"Remind me to bathe with you more often," Kamui says, smiling as Asra chuckles softly. He reaches down to tilt Julian's head further back by the chin, before beginning to rinse out his hair.

"This isn't that different from the baths I took with my friend when we were younger," Asra explains. "Except that he had a lot more hair than you."

"You do this with your friends?" Julian asks carefully, voice tight. Asra doesn't seem to notice his tone, responding smoothly and easily.

"Sure," he says. "Nadia and I used to do this, too." Wide ruby eyes snap up in his direction. "Again, a lot more hair than you."

"So, then," Julian starts, trying his best to stare down at the water despite how far back Asra has him tilting his head. "We're… friends?" The question is practically choked out, like there was something clamping down around his throat. It takes Asra by surprise, and for a moment, all he does is blink. Then, his face colors slightly, and he looks away.

"I'd like it if we were," he says. He looks back, eyes raking over Julian's face in search of argument. "Don't you?"

"I'd… like that," Julian responds with a smile, which Asra returns, a bit of a bashful edge to his expression as he quickly looks away. Which just has his eyes landing on Kamui, hands clasped in front of his chin and eyes dancing.

"Kamui, stop," Asra complains, turning a deeper shade of red as he averts his eyes even farther away, staring at the wall to his right instead.

"I can't," Kamui says. "That was beautiful."

"Oh, don't worry, the wedding's just around the corner," Julian jokes, attempting to sit up only for Asra to quickly grab onto his hair and yank him back down.

"There's still shampoo in your hair," Asra says hastily, returning to his job of rinsing out the man's hair. Julian throws up his hands in surrender, causing Kamui to laugh.

Once that's all taken care of, Asra dips his feet back into the bath. "It's your turn now," he says, aiming a devious smirk in Kamui's direction—only for the apprentice to shake his head firmly.

"Nope. Yours," Kamui retorts. Wrapping his arms around Asra's middle, he urges him back into the water. The magician is powerless to resist; or, more accurately, he doesn't try to resist, going willingly into the tub. A smile both hesitant and amused tugs at Asra's lips. "You deserve to be spoiled."

"I'm already spoiled," Asra says, looking over his apprentice with a certain tenderness. Kamui takes both of his hands.

"More spoiled, then." He kisses Asra's knuckles, tasting the water clinging to his skin with hints of rose. "Lean back, love. Let me wash your chest."

The playfulness in Asra's expression shifts, a soft look in his eyes to match the small smile that forms as he leans comfortably back against the rim. His hands trail slowly from their place behind Kamui's neck to his biceps, resting there as Kamui sits back, pulling Asra's robe from his shoulders.

Kamui's eyes linger on the planes of Asra chest. He only turns away long enough to retrieve the soap, and to ask, "Julian, darling, can you wash my back, please?" with a sweet look and a fluttering of his eyelashes. Both his partners laugh fondly, and Julian smiles, agreeing easily. Moving to sit behind Kamui and effectively sandwiching him in between the two, Julian lowers Kamui's robe down past his shoulders. With a devious smile, Kamui pulls his arms free of the sleeves, baring his torso in full. He catches Julian's eye, noting the mildly flustered look that crosses the doctor's face before turning back around.

Smoothing his soapy hands down over Asra's collar, the grin lingering on his face, his attention momentarily shifts upwards as Asra speaks in a near-whisper, "Trying to kill him? He just died this morning, Kamui." In a gesture of mock-surprise, Kamui lifts one of his hands to place it over his heart.

"Me? Why, I would never."

Following a playful roll of Asra's eyes, they lapse into a comfortable silence. Julian's deft hands smooth over Kamui's shoulders and upper back, coaxing a soft sigh out of him as fingers brush his neck. His own hands explore Asra's torso, barely bothering to pretend to be washing him as his fingers trace the lines of his chest and abs. While the hands on his back lulled him into a deep relaxation, the feel of Asra's smooth, soft skin was pure bliss. He wasn't sure it could get any better than this.

Thumbs press into a spot along his upper back. A sharp pain shoots up his spine, causing him to arc his back in an attempt to escape it, a startled yelp escaping him. However, the pain quickly fades, replaced with immense relief as the muscles in his back start to relax. "O-Ohhh," he groans. "Th-That… do that again."

Julian wordlessly complies, rubbing the soap along his back until finding another knot to apply pressure to. This time, he's expecting it, and grips Asra's shoulders as the momentary sting washes over him. As the pain turns to relief, and a groan escapes his throat, he catches the look on Asra's face. Violet eyes are watching him very closely, lips parted. Kamui smiles softly, reaching up to run a curled finger under Asra's chin.

"See something you like?" he purrs.

Asra responds by leaning in, their lips connecting. A hand caresses the side of his neck, fingers sliding over his nape and sending a shiver down his spine. A thumb presses into a particularly hard knot and he groans into Asra's open mouth, leaning heavily on him.

Reaching blindly for the bottle of soap, Asra coats his hands with it. Kamui feels one sliding down the length of his torso to rub over a nipple, the pad of his thumb caressing the bud. The touch sends a tingle down Kamui's spine, body warming as he bites his lip, suppressing a needy whine. His own hands slide down Asra's torso, attempting to mirror the touches despite the way his hands tremble.

The hands on his back still. Kamui can feel the way they've started to shake, and he arcs his back into them encouragingly. "Don't stop," he sighs, hearing Julian suck in a breath. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he spots the doctor with his lip tugged between his teeth, skin a vivid red all the way down his chest and over his ears. He nods slowly, resuming his earlier ministrations.

Their hands continue to roam, smearing soap and washing the filth from their bodies. The blood cleans easily from Kamui's hair, as does everything else. But the ease at which everything washes away doesn't stop their hands from scrubbing firmly over bare skin, taking in every inch.

Kamui runs his hands over Asra's arms, fondling the strong shape of his biceps and forearms. He drags his lips along them, nuzzling his cheek into soapy flesh until Asra's hand caresses his cheek. It doesn't stop there; Kamui drags his hand down, over his jaw, neck, and chest, while, Julian's hands smooth over his lower back. They slowly ease around to his thighs, touch tentative and questioning.

Kamui's mind empties completely of all rational thought. He grasps Julian's hands and draws them closer, over his thighs, coaxing them into rubbing the sensitive flesh there. Julian tenses, breaths hot against Kamui's neck.

"Don't be shy," Kamui purrs, breathless and low as he turns his head, nose brushing against Julian's cheek. The doctor's breath stills, before resuming slow and shallow, ragged as his hands begin to rub over the smooth skin of Kamui's thighs, his robe hitching up. With Kamui's head tilted, Asra's lips trace the exposed curve of his neck. His body trembles with anticipation, and he can feel himself growing hard between his legs.

Hands roam over his chest and thighs, the fabric of his robe shifting as Julian's hands trail underneath. Fingers find the crease of his thighs and squeeze, his hips jutting forward in response. Through several layers of fabric, his cock presses up against Asra, causing both their breaths to catch.

Heart racing, his breath stutters as Asra presses back, trapping his dick between their bodies. It forces Julian to change courses, rubbing up over Kamui's hips before trailing back down to his thighs. He struggles to grind his hips, one hand gripping Julian's robe behind him, the other slid across Asra's shoulders. As Julian begins to trail kisses down his neck, he tilts his head to the opposite side, Asra's lips easing down to his collar. His hands slide down the back of Asra's robe, feeling smooth, bare skin.

Hands continue to caress his body, smoothing over it with soap before rinsing it off by hand, or magic in Asra's case. He whimpers at the feeling of the magician's teeth on his shoulder, heart doing a flip as his body burns from the inside out. It's easy to relax into their joint embrace, giving in entirely.

It feels like an eternity of gentle massages and kisses, unable to maneuver his body enough to get more friction to his lower half. The only sounds in the room consist of pants and sighs, the gentle sway of the water as their bodies move, lips on skin, skin of skin—Kamui whines, needy. He doesn't even know whose name to speak, who to appeal to first to get this to escalate beyond the most sensual bathing experience he's ever had. The fact that this was happening at all felt completely surreal.

Lips curling into a smile, he lets out a chuckle between breaths. "What's happening right now?" he utters softly, voice a near-whisper, more sultry than he thought capable. Asra's lips find his jaw, pressing firmly.

"Spoiling," he says, lacking Kamui's humored tone as he finds the space behind Kamui's ear, burying his teeth into the sensitive skin there. A choked moan escapes him at the contact.

" _Fffuck—_ I-I can't take this kind of treatment…" he gasps, as Julian's hands trail up over his chest, brushing past hard, pink nipples, arms warm against his bare skin and tingling everywhere they make contact. His hands rest over Kamui's shoulders, lips finding their way to Kamui's neck. "Did I—p-pass out…? I've had… dreams like this… ohhh…"

"Just relax," Asra whispers right over the shell of his ear, leaving a kiss behind before moving on.

With Julian holding him like this, it's a lot easier to obey Asra's command. He wants to kiss him, to feel Julian's bruised lips against his own, taste his tongue. As if he'd read his mind, Julian's lips trail up to his, and they're pressing against each other, sparks flying up the back of Kamui's spine. Their tongues find each other and Kamui licks eagerly into the doctor's mouth, sucking on his tongue and delighting in the moans it earns him. The sounds go right to his dick, which throbs against Asra's lower body.

Warmth wraps around his dick, suddenly, stroking firm along the shaft to squeeze around the head, bubbles pilung up around the tip and coaxing gasping moans out of him. Body rocking into the touch, his breaths quicken with the fevered pace of his hips. Asra begins to stroke him faster, and he whines, the sensations getting to be too much to bear, one of his hands shifting to grab the robe at Julian's thigh. His entire body is quivering, his heart has stopped and and his breathing is erratic. With a gasping chuckle he thinks Nadia would probably be mad about this.

And then it stops entirely. Asra pulls his hand away, shaking it under the bathwater to get rid of all the soap. With one hand on Kamui's waist, and the other on his shoulder, Asra puts some distance between their lower halves, before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. He rests his head on Kamui's shoulder, where his eyes meet Julian's.

"Ilya," he says, causing the man to go from watching in a daze, to jerking upwards suddenly, at full attention. Asra chuckles to himself, but doesn't say anything. Instead he reaches for one of Julian's hands, pulling it down between Kamui's thighs. He urges it to wrap around his flushed pink length, holding the doctor's hand and guiding his every movement, from the press of his thumb over the head to applying the right amount of pressure.

Kamui's heart beats loud in his ears, thighs parting to give them more room. When he starts to move his hips, Asra moves Julian accordingly, forming a circle with their fingers for Kamui to thrust into. Ruby eyes stare down at their movements, chest flooding with warmth at the sight of their joined hands. It's incredibly romantic in his mind, this single moment of blissful cooperation. It's with that thought that his hips jerk, breath stuttering with a keening whine as he spills all over their hands, which continue in slow drags, extending his orgasm for as long as possible.

Lips caress his neck and cheeks on either side. He can feel Julian pressed against his back, Asra at his front. He could die here. There would be no complaints from him.

After his high passes, he tilts his head to kiss the line of Asra's throat. "I love you," he mumbles, feeling Asra smile against his forehead. After that, he tilts his head, catching sight of Julian leaned against his nape. He tries his best to peck the bridge of Julian's nose, but falls just short of actually making contact. He feels more than hears the amused breath Julian lets out, before the man raises up to kiss Kamui properly.

As they pull away, Kamui mutters, "Did that really just happen?"

Julian laughs again, but he's not laughing anymore when Asra lifts their joined hands and laves his tongue over them, thoroughly cleaning the cum from Julian's fingers despite the fact their hands had both been underwater at the time. The two men are left gaping at him. Asra nuzzles into Julian's palm before releasing him; although the hand doesn't go anywhere, utterly frozen.

There's a mischievous grin on Asra's face as he meets the eyes of the other two. "What?" he oh-so-innocently asks.

"Okay, did _that_ really just happen?" Kamui exclaims.

"I think I might still be dead," Julian says slowly, stunned. He looks to Kamui, who is equally as wide-eyed, "Do I have a pulse?"

With more grace than expected of such a maneuver, Asra raises one of his legs, placing his foot somewhere directly behind Kamui that has Julian letting out a choked noise. Asra raises a brow at the man, his pale face turning an even deeper shade of pink than it already was. "You seem pretty alive to me," Asra comments.

"O-Oh, god," Julian groans. Whipping his head around, Kamui attempts to get a better look, arcing his back towards Asra to accomplish it. It's hard to see properly, but he can definitely make out the shape of Asra's foot and Julian's hard dick, standing tall between the flaps of his robe. Kamui stares at it, heart pounding. The foot slides upwards, toes curling around the flushed pink tip of Julian's dick and causing the doctor to tremble, hand flying up to cover his mouth. Kamui leans as close to Asra as possible to get a better look.

"You, um," Kamui starts, so distracted by the sight in front of, or rather, behind him that he hardly registers the words leaving his mouth. "S-So which one of us are you happy to see?"

A gasping breath leaves Julian's throat, a plainly sexual noise that sends a jolt down Kamui's body. If he weren't so worn out, that might have had a real effect on him. All the while, Asra reclines back against the edge of the tub, elbows propped up on the rim with a smug grin on his face.

"Is one of you going to kill me if I say both of you?" Julian asks, to which Kamui raises a brow. Asra, however, doesn't seem surprised at all.

"I'll give you a five minute headstart," Asra says.

"Lot more than I expected to get," Julian laughs. His statement was true in more ways than one, Kamui thinks.

The apprentice leans in towards Asra's ear, whispering with a hand to block his mouth from Julian's line of sight. "Do you want him…?" he asks, curious about Asra's intentions and boundaries. The magician responds quicker than expected, starting with a kiss to Kamui's jaw.

"He's yours," Asra says, and pulls his foot away. The lack of explanation leaves Kamui wanting, wondering what he was thinking about. This was the boldest thing he'd done where Julian was concerned, by far, and he was sure Julian was just as confused.

They might need to have a talk about this later. But for now…

The apprentice turns fully around, pulling Julian closer to him by the hips. Silver eyes dart from Kamui's face to their lower halves, noting the obvious difference in arousal. Kamui reaches up, brushing Julian's wispy bangs aside to get a better look at _both_ his eyes, morbidly enjoying the look of the red sclera. It glows ever-so-slightly, enough to blur the edges of his iris, but not enough to cast a light on his cheek.

A nervous laugh parts Julian's lips. "Like what you see?" he flirtatiously asks, although nerves taint his tone and his expression, tilting his head as if trying to get his bangs to fall back into place. Kamui won't let that happen, though, pinning them back behind the doctor's ear. It's easier with how damp the strands are.

"You're so beautiful, Julian," he sighs, eyes skimming over Julian's melting expression longingly.

Julian drifts closer, hands moving to rest on Kamui's waist. Their lips meet, a soft gasp passing from Julian's mouth to Kamui's as he slides a hand up over the small of his back, fingers tracing the curve of his spine.

Their noses brush as Julian pulls back to stare into Kamui's eyes. Pink floods Julian's face, eyes glazed over with lust. Kamui darts back in, nibbling Julian's lower lip, tasting the man's breath. He can't help but grin at the way Julian parts his lips eagerly.

A sigh passes Julian's lips as Kamui brings his face down to his neck, biting hard enough to bruise. With a sharp, whimpering intake of breath, Julian's body jerks, yet he pulls Kamui's head in close, encouraging his teeth to sink deeper. A shiver runs up his spine, the aggression of the bite fueling his own renewed arousal.

As he pries his teeth free of Julian's abused flesh, Kamui gently strokes his face and neck, making him shudder in response. His eyes watch the mark, not deep enough to bleed, but more than enough to be visible, for a prolonged moment. Once it fully registers that it's not going anywhere, his breath hitches, body flooding with heat as he dives back in for another bite.

He curls his fingers into Julian's hair, as a few more bites discover the pale line of his neck. A hand slides down the length of his torso, finding his cock and firmly stroking it, causing Julian to groan, arcing his back with his hands moving to grip Kamui's biceps. His nails drag across the back of Julian's scalp, coaxing a moan from the man's lips, cock throbbing between his legs.

"Kamui," Julian groans, his voice trembling with need. "T-Tell me what I should do."

Leaning in close, Kamui harshly bites the line of Julian's jaw before moving towards his ear, cheeks brushing. Quietly, enough that they can't be overheard, Kamui whispers, "Be a good boy and take my cock. Asra's watching, you know. Put on a nice little show for him."

He had no idea if that was true, if Asra hadn't just turned away by now, but nevertheless, Julian shudders, letting out little cries of pleasure as Kamui slowly moves his hips upwards, grinding their cocks together, arms wrapped tight around each other's backs.

It takes barely any time at all after that for Julian's body to stiffen, arcing into Kamui's hips and shuddering as he cums. Before he can take a full breath, Kamui pulls him into a crushing, heated kiss, hands caressing the doctor's heated face.

"Good boy," Kamui whispers against his lips, unable to resist the melting look Julian gives him at the endearment. He smiles, rubbing a thumb across Julian's sharp cheekbone. "I love the face you're making, right now. It's one of my favorites."

Pulling Julian's head in against his shoulder, he sits there, holding him in his arms and petting him until he calms down, Julian's hands clinging to the back of his shoulders. Kamui opts to ignore his own arousal, uncertain if he could even handle dealing with it right now. It doesn't take much to get it to go away, either. The feeling of holding Julian in his arms is all he cares about; although having a warm body draping itself over his back certainly amplifies the feeling. Asra's arms wrap around the space left between the two men's bodies, thanks to their height difference.

Tilting his head enough to catch Asra's eye, Kamui raises a brow, teasingly asking, "Was that good for you, too?" Asra laughs, the vibration reverberating against Kamui's skin and sending a shiver down his spine.

"More than you'd think," he responds.

"Is this usually how it goes when you bathe with your friends?"

"It is when my boyfriend is present," Asra explains with a quirk of his brow. Kamui smiles goofily at the sound of " _my boyfriend_ " coming out of Asra's mouth. "And my friend is also his boyfriend. Things escalate."

"I like it," Kamui laughs. Turning back to Julian, he presses a kiss to the bridge of the man's nose. "Let's do this again sometime," he adds in a low voice, feeling Julian shudder against him. With his head leaning on Kamui's shoulder, he smiles wearily.

"You'll see no complaints from me," he says, and Kamui's arms encircle him tighter.

  
  
  
  


After drying off and finding slippers to wear, they retire back to the guest chambers in search of clean clothes, the old ones folded up in their arms. With Asra's magic, their robes are perfectly dry, covering them along their journey. Once inside, they find the bed and table along the opposite wall cluttered with fabric, glass bottles, and makeup. For a moment, they stop and stare, until Julian breaks the silence.

"I found some clothes," he jokingly announces.

Kamui wanders over to the bed, his silk slippers gliding along the carpet. "Did Nadia bring these?" he muses aloud, kneeling down to gaze over the fabrics; they looked so expensive, even moreso than the gown he'd worn to the trial, and he worried about messing something up by touching them. Not for long, though. The urge to run his hands over the glittering chiffon skirt amongst the neatly folded pile is impossible to resist.

It was easy to tell what was meant for who; although it surprises him to see the clothing divided up into three, with the stark black on the far right a harsh contrast to the whites, reds, golds, and violets of the other two. He wonders, for just a moment, how long Nadia had been planning these outfits. The black one in particular.

Despite Kamui's clear reverence for the luxurious items before him, Asra has no such qualms, striding over to the pile and lifting the violet and gold top on the far left. He holds it up to his body, letting the sheer sleeve drape over his arm. He hums in thought.

"What do you think?" he asks, lips curling into a pleased smile. It was clear what _he_ thought about it, barely able to take his eyes off the swirling gold of the collar and the cut of the sleeves. Kamui can't help but stare, doing his best to picture the way the sheer undershirt would stretch over the magician's toned chest.

"You know exactly what I think," Kamui sighs. He leans his head in his hands. "Put it on and let me do your hair."

Asra's smile grows brighter. Setting the top aside, he makes a show of pulling open the tie on his robe and letting the fabric drift carelessly to the ground. Kamui humors him with a loud purring sound at the sight.

"Oooh, take it _off_ , Asra," Kamui jokingly whoops, smiling wide when Asra laughs hard enough that he nearly trips stepping away from the robe at his feet.

Kamui stands, glancing over the [outfit](https://66.media.tumblr.com/84737c39a3564604b4431eeafe18a740/a522ae3e33f44f3e-4d/s1280x1920/09375dcd062867b6d65f68835f476aa1739b6400.png) clearly meant for him—from the cut to the colors—and mentally making a checklist for what order he was supposed to put it on in. The shoes, two pairs of boots and heels, were arranged neatly atop the dresser nearby instead, in the same order.

He turns, catching sight of the feathery black suit laid out on the bed. Its owner was missing, causing Kamui to look around in search of him; he was nearby the table opposite the bed, going through the various bottles and makeup palettes. Curious, Kamui strides over to him. Acting on automatic, he wraps his arms around Julian's middle, peering around his side to see what he was doing. The doctor doesn't react as much as he'd otherwise expect—perhaps he was getting used to all the touching?

Sparing the notably shorter man a glance over his shoulder, Julian smiles. He holds up one of the tiny, intricate glass bottles, which strikes Kamui as familiar, somehow. "If you're looking to smell even more like a bakery," he jokes, before passing the bottle off to Kamui.

He holds it between two fingers, staring down at the label. That's when it hits him—it was the same perfume he'd worn days prior, cinnamon scented. He glances back up, catching Julian's silver eyes watching him.

"I thought you'd like it," he adds, turning slightly pink before turning back to the selection laid out before him. Kamui can't help but smile. Leaning up on his toes, he places a kiss to the back of Julian's neck, reveling in the shiver that rolls down his spine in response.

"It's my favorite, thank you." Wrapping his arms tighter around Julian's middle, he nuzzles briefly into the man's back before going back to watching his hands sift through the items on the table. "See something you like? I can do your makeup for you," he offers.

"You've been doing a lot of that lately," Julian laughs. "How about the reverse?"

Kamui blinks. "You're going to do my makeup?" He tilts his head; the thought certainly appealed, insofar as Julian touching his face and sitting so close, focused on getting everything to look just right. But then again, the only frame of reference Kamui possessed for Julian's concept of makeup was… "So long as it's not too dramatic, okay? I prefer looks that are more subtle."

"And delicate," comes Asra's voice from across the room. Kamui turns just to shoot him an offended look, spotting the magician sitting on the edge of the bed, clad in a long, flowing white skirt, and nothing else.

"I'm not _delicate_. I'm very strong," Kamui argues.

"Absolutely massive," Julian jokingly agrees, earning him a pout from Kamui that just has him laughing. The apprentice leans up and blows air on the back of his neck in retaliation.

"You're both mean to me," Kamui whines, "I'm gonna go ask out Nadia instead."

"Something tells me she's not your type," Julian says.

"The 'she' part tells me she's not your type," Asra adds.

Kamui steps away from Julian and over to where their shoes are arranged, kicking at the air. "Yeah well, the masquerade is sure to be full of eligible bachelors. I might wander," he teasingly warns, shrugging. Carrying the tall red and gold boots over to the bed, he leans forward into Asra's sightline, saying, "Might wanna keep a leash on me."

"That can be arranged," Asra purrs.

"At such a public event? Spicy," Julian quips, smiling at the way Kamui laughs. He carries a few items from the table over to the bed, using one of his ankles to drag the plush stool nearby along with him. The items get placed on the stool before Julian sidesteps around Kamui to inspect his costume. "You know, you can count me in on that…"

"Then I'll start to look like your mom," Asra points out. "With all my unruly children on a leash."

"Your children, that are both older than you? That's not a fetish I want in on," Kamui says, prompting a startled laugh from Asra. "I prefer like, a naughty kitten…"

Julian audibly purrs, and Kamui giggles, hiding his mouth behind a hand. The doctor leans forward, lifting up the mask set out alongside his suit. It was in the shape of a raven, complete with dark feathers and a small, black beak. "Ah yes, the inherent eroticism of _birds_ ," Julian quips.

"Oh, feathers get me really hot," Kamui jokes. He pauses in the middle of removing his robe, the fabric sliding off his shoulders as he stares down at the feathery suit. Imagining it on Julian's slender frame… appeals. "Actually," he adds, a lot more seriously, letting the statement hang in the air at the amused and unsurprised huff coming from Asra's side of the bed.

They focus more on dressing after that, occasionally stopping to help one another with buttons or the more complicated aspects of their costumes. The task is finished off with Julian perching on the edge of the bed while Kamui fastens his red cravat into place, grooming his feathers before leaving his hands around Julian's waist. The fabric of his coat swaps between cotton and a smooth velvet, the latter of which Kamui can't resist running his hands over.

"Stand up and give me a twirl," Kamui says, looking to both Asra and Julian interchangeably until they understand. "I want to look at you two."

They stare at each other for a moment, before Asra shrugs, elegantly raising to his feet and standing in the center of the room. His skirt is more airy than Kamui would have expected, flowing gently as he walks. It isn't long after that Julian joins him. Seeing him upright reveals a bit more to his costume; feathers flow down along the coat's tail, each one with a polished sheen that reflects the warm lighting of the lanterns overhead. The gold trim along the coat matches the buckles of his thigh-length boots.

Julian holds out a hand, his other tucked behind his back as he takes a bow. An amused huff parts Asra's lips into a smile, and he accepts, taking a single step forward as Julian raises their hands up, giving the magician a twirl. His skirt practically floats in a perfect circle as he spins, revealing a fraction of the sheer stockings he has on underneath.

All the while, Kamui can't stop grinning. He claps as Asra slows to a halt, and the two make a show out of bowing and curtseying. Excitably, Kamui gestures to Julian, saying, "Twirl him, next!" With a quirk of his brow and a playful curl of his lips, Asra turns to face Julian, copying his motions from earlier.

"May I have this dance?" Asra asks. With a saucy grin, Julian takes his hand. But rather than positioning for a twirl, Asra puts his free hand on Julian's hip, the other raised at something approximating shoulder level. Julian raises a brow.

"Bit short to be leading, aren't we."

Asra's brows raise. "Ohhh, be careful, Ilya. You might hit your head on the ceiling."

As they start moving, their steps landing with near-perfect timing, Julian frowns. "Listen, that's a very real threat, sometimes—"

"Oh, I've seen you hit your head on enough doorways to know that, already."

Suddenly, Asra pulls him forward to twirl him across the room, ending with them at arm's reach, hand-in-hand. Wide silver eyes stare down at the magician, who grins victoriously, smug; and Julian grins too, a challenging glint to his eyes.

Their dancing turns more energetic; as Asra pulls Julian back, he makes a point of landing in the magician's arms, leg bent high by Asra's hip. A snowy eyebrow raises, violet eyes catching the mischievous look being aimed at him. With a soft huff, he twirls them both around, leading them in a borderline competitive dance quickly escalating from contemporary to something more flavorful.

It's hard to look away. Kamui's eyes track them closely, enraptured by the unexpectedly heated dance playing out before him. He felt as though he should have paid a fee to catch even a glimpse of this.

But their dance could hardly be confined to such a tiny space as the guest bedroom. It was bigger than that; and as a result, the environment becomes their downfall. The plush, purple-cushioned stool, piled up with beauty products, gets in the way of Asra's heel outside his notice, tripping him. As he starts to fall, Julian panics, rushing to catch him. For a split-second, Kamui thinks to jump up, too, but; something occurs to him, and he watches and waits instead.

Julian catches Asra around the middle, and the magician twists to face him, instinctively reaching up to grasp at his shoulders. For a moment, all they do is catch their breath, easing down from the initial panic. Then, their eyes catch. There's something weighted in their gazes, something like apprehension or fear mixed with something heated, something that can't shine through—maybe as a byproduct of that fear, or something else entirely.

Julian clears his throat, overly loud, and the two turn their faces away from each other, blushing in embarrassment. In turn, Asra's eyes meet Kamui's, a look of uncertainty on his flushed red face. Kamui tries his hardest to project a _What are you doing?! Kiss him!_ vibe, but Asra doesn't listen. He remains still, as Julian straightens them out, helping Asra to his feet. The doctor fusses a bit, smoothing out Asra's outfit as said magician gives him a _look_ , one that has him tearing his hands away and taking several steps back.

Kamui suppresses a sigh. So _this_ is what it looked like for two people to dance around each other.

Asra steps over to the bed, taking both of Kamui's hands in his and tugging his apprentice to his feet, where they end up in the center of the room. Behind them, Julian uses one boot to push the stool farther away.

With a smile, Asra says, "Now, it's your turn."

"Ooo," Kamui cooes, looking to his other side, where Julian stands nearby. "Will both of you twirl me?"

Julian begins to say, "How do you propose we—" before Kamui lifts his dominant hand, Asra's fingers already wrapped around it. He gestures, both with their hands and his eyes, until Julian gets the point, hovering a gloved hand over the top of theirs. He hesitates, seeking approval from the two magicians before he lowers his hand.

Hands overhead, Kamui mostly twirls himself, with all the grace of a semi-experienced dancer. He balances perfectly on a gold-tipped boot, his chiffon skirt and silk jacket flowing in the wind. The skirt had more of an ethereal feel to it, as opposed to the more energetic flow of Asra's.

He's slightly dizzy as he slows to a stop. Feeling himself start to tip, he decides not to bother trying to stop it; and, as expected, he falls pleasantly into Julian's chest, the doctor's arms wrapping around his torso.

"Are you alright?"

Kamui grins up at him, a hand thrown over his forehead. "Your intoxicating beauty had me feeling feint," he says, grin widening when Julian lets go of a laugh, fondness in his eyes.

One of the hands holding his begins to drift away; he acts fast, reaching forward to grab Asra's violet shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. The magician makes a soft, surprised sound in the back of his throat, but melts eagerly into the embrace. Kamui's grinning when they part, pleased by the warm glow of Asra's cheeks. After Asra takes a step back, Kamui tilts his head up, calling Julian's name in a coyly singsong tone. With a doting smile, Julian leans forward to give him a kiss, too. Kamui's giggling when they part. In response, Julian swings him around, holding him around the lower back before seeking another kiss, which Kamui gladly gives to him.

"I like this," Kamui says, taking a few steps out of Julian's embrace. "The three of us, together."

"Yeah," Julian says. There's a crease in his brow, as though he were surprised to find he agreed. "Tonight has been… one of the best I've had in awhile. Aside from the part where my old boss tried to kill me."

Kamui smiles. With a bounce to his step, he returns back to the bed, taking a seat alongside Asra. Yet, his eyes remain on Julian, and he says, "Sit down and let me brush your hair."

Julian grins. "Yes, sir."

With a soft chuckle, Kamui reaches for a nearby comb, only to have one placed in his open palm by Asra. With a sweet smile and a quick thank-you, he turns back to find Julian forgoing the bed entirely to sit on the floor at his feet. He rests his chin in his hands over Kamui's thigh, where the white pants tucked into his boots.

"Julian," Kamui starts, raising a brow as said doctor looks up at him, a knowing smile on his face, "You know you can use the furniture?"

"Now, where's the fun in that?" Kamui rolls his eyes, but doesn't protest; this actually put Julian at a much better vantage point, as far as combing through his hair went. Which he gets started on right afterwards, carefully smoothing the auburn locks out into their usual style. At the same time, Asra brushes through his, so careful with the delicate, snowy curls that the process of working out the tangles is entirely painless. It feels nice, and the desire to curl up in Asra's lap to be pet like a housecat is momentarily irresistible.

In the process of combing through Julian's, Kamui can't help but want to run his fingers through it. "Your hair is so soft now," he comments, rubbing a thumb over a strand of hair. Possessing no shame, he lifts the long fringe up to his nose and takes a sniff. "That shampoo was a good call," he adds, glancing over his shoulder to Asra, who smiles proudly without looking up from the white hair within his grasp.

He turns back to find Julian holding a lock of his own hair up to his nose. "This scent is very nostalgic," he says.

"Good memories, or bad ones?" Kamui asks. It was hard to tell based on the man's expression; too neutral. Faraway, but showing neither pain nor pleasure.

Julian hums thoughtfully. A few moments pass before he says, "Bittersweet."

Kamui nods. If that was all he was going to get out of such a verbose person, then it was likely information he shouldn't try seeking. And that was fine. For now, at least; everything felt so light, like nothing could bother him.

It takes a little longer for Asra to finish with Kamui's hair, but it's worth it; merely touching it once Asra's done with it reveals a level of fluffiness and volume he's not used to having. Before he can question if it's magic, he feels it; like a gentle, lightly damp powder, traces of Asra's magic clung to his hair. It brings a warmth to his cheeks and flutter to his chest. He didn't know what it was, exactly, but Asra's magic always made him feel… safe. Warm. Not alone.

And the thought of that was so _soft_ and _sappy_ that he might cry, so he moves on. But not without a kiss to his favorite magician as thanks, first. It was only polite.

"Are you going to do my makeup, now?" Kamui asks, leaning back on his hands as he looks up to where Julian now sits on the bed to his right. There's already a palette in his hands, which Kamui attempts to get a better look at, spotting a nice shade of red in the process which Julian makes a beeline for.

The feeling of Julian carefully gliding the makeup brush over his eyelids was relaxing, but the part he really adored was getting to stare at Julian's concentrating face from up close. At several points during the process, he was consumed by the urge to lean in for a quick kiss, but manages to hold back in fear of ruining all of Julian's hard work.

And then there's the part where Asra hovers nearby to watch, handing off other items to Julian like some kind of makeup nurse, with the occasional suggestion. Julian follows each recommendation to the letter, trusting Asra's guidance. It wasn't such a bad idea; Kamui was certain Asra wouldn't try to prank Julian if it involved Kamui himself in any way. In all his… three years, he'd never been the recipient of a prank by the magician, yet he's seen it happen, in little ways, multiple times now with Julian. It would've come as more of a surprise if it didn't fall so perfectly in line with his personality.

After applying some pale gloss to Kamui's lips, Julian pulls back, admiring his work. Kamui rubs his lips together, spreading the gloss, and tastes a hint of something fruity in the process. Leaning back on his hands while Asra leans on his shoulder, he says, "Well? How do I look?"

While Julian is too busy staring, the look on his face a little hard to read, Asra says, "I'm impressed, Ilya." That snaps the doctor out of his intense focus, eyes darting over to the magician in surprise.

"You like it?" he asks, eager for approval.

Asra leans forward, raising a hand to brush under Kamui's jaw, tilting his head to look at him from a different angle. All the while, Kamui is relishing in the attention. "Well, I did help…" Asra says, causing Julian to send him a flat look, one with a hint of disappointment shining through. But then Asra laughs, adding, "I'm joking. He's a stunning vision under your artistry. I especially like the gold over the wings."

Julian smiles, pleased.

"I have to see this," Kamui says, and Asra waves his hand, bringing over the mirror that hangs on the wall nearby the bed. At the sight of himself all dolled up in the mirror, his eyes widen, taking the mirror from Asra's hands to check himself out at every conceivable angle. It's hard for him to be satisfied; it truly did look good, more than expected from someone who seemed not to do much more than smear dramatic black makeup around his eyes. Lowering the mirror into his lap, he turns to Julian, who looks hopeful. "I've decided I'm keeping you," Kamui announces.

"Ohhh, must be really good if you're not taking me back to the pound after this," Julian jokes, a cocky grin on his face, yet Kamui can tell how much his approval means to him in the pale blush that settles over his features, the soft smile he's trying to hide. Kamui leans towards him for a kiss, before something brilliant occurs to him and he quickly stops in his tracks.

"Hmm, Jules, you'd look really good in some lipstick, maybe some gloss," Kamui says, feigning thoughtfulness. Julian blinks, raising a brow questioningly.

"Can't say I think my face suits such a thing, but if you think so, I trust your opinion," Julian responds. Such a heartfelt response wasn't what Kamui expected, but it makes his heart flutter nonetheless.

"Good. Because I have just the one for you, sit still." Julian does as he's told, and Kamui turns, pretending to be looking for the right item from the makeup pile. But then he turns back around suddenly, swiftly grabbing Julian's cheeks and pressing their lips together, causing the man to jolt before freezing in place. It's just firm enough that when he pulls back, there's a trace of glittering, pale pink gloss stuck to Julian's thin lips. Kamui leans back, grinning smugly.

"Look at that, I was right. It looks really good on you," Kamui says, thriving under the surprised, flustered look Julian is giving him, his hand raising towards his lips outside his notice. It clears before too long, a visible struggle in the transition from embarrassed to his usual overconfident smirk.

"Well well, look at you. The proper Eros of our time," Julian quips. Kamui quirks a brow.

"Comparing me to a god? You must want something." Remembering, as soon as the words leave his mouth, the last time he'd uttered those words, he interrupts the parting of Julian's smug lips to say, "And if you say 'just you', I'm walking out of this room right now."

They laugh, and once the giggles subside, they move on to the rest of their preparations. Kamui insists upon doing Asra's makeup and hair, announcing he had very important plans for the magician's look, even more so now that he knew what Asra would be wearing. It's a special treat to get to stare at Asra's face closely and in such detail, especially after having combed his bangs all the way back. Getting to see the full length of his nose, both eyes, and his brows clearly had Kamui feeling short of breath.

"God, you're beautiful," he had dreamily sighed, overcome with longing that only grew worse at the shy face Asra made in response. It could only be cured with a kiss—or several, for good measure.

The makeup was more dramatic than Kamui was used to producing, in the glittering gold eyeliner and pale lavender eyeshadow, magically adorned with a more subtle glimmer than the gold; it caught in the light, twinkling like stars. After adding wings (of course) and curling Asra's lashes, he moved on to contouring, a pale blush, and finally, his lips. It was a nude tone, but it added a certain shimmer, and tasted of apples—he knew this for sure, having sampled it right away and adding a hint of his pink in the process.

During entire duration of the makeup application process, Julian had stared in awe, eventually going totally silent. Kamui didn't think it was _that_ impressive, but… maybe it was his passion for the recipient shining through in his attention to detail.

But Julian going quiet that entire time hardly kept the room silent. Kamui was physically incapable of keeping his compliments to himself every step of the way, eventually leading him to have trouble telling Asra's natural blush apart from the makeup. Thankfully it didn't turn out too strong.

After it's done and Kamui has passed over the mirror, he notices Julian continuing to stare, the same way one might zone out looking at the stars overhead. Grinning knowingly, Kamui elbows him to get his attention. The man startles, head whipping around in Kamui's direction, cheeks coloring. Kamui leans closer to him. "He's very good looking, right?" Kamui asks, obviously fishing for compliments, though not for himself.

Julian's throat bobs, lips thinning. He glances to Asra, who Kamui can also see out of the corner of his eye; their eyes meet for a moment, Asra's expression demure and curious, almost eager, but for only a moment before he turns away, ducking his head, gaze averted. For a moment, he reaches up to smooth fingers through his bangs, clearing wanting to hide behind them, only to remember they've been brushed back.

The blush on Julian's face is even deeper as he turns back to Kamui. "It's a really good look for him. You're good at this sort of thing, aren't you?"

"I had a good model," Kamui says, unwilling to back down, not after what he just saw pass between the two of them. "Don't you agree?"

This flusters Julian even more. "He's, um," he stutters, eyes darting nervously from Kamui, to Asra, to the hand resting in his own lap, to a random location somewhere around the room, back to Asra. "Y-You look… stunning," he manages. "Gold is… I mean, everything looks good on you, you're very handsome, uh—well, you know what I… I-It's obvious, anyway, I shouldn't have to say it, redundant, really—"

"Ilya," Asra says, voice cutting through Julian's increasingly anxious, timid ramblings. Their eyes meet, and Asra smiles, holding it long enough to say, "Thank you," before quickly turning away, embarrassed.

"Of… O-Of course," Julian mumbles, stunned.

The tension between them was thick, and even Kamui could feel it, like a rose pink fog drifting throughout the room. It leaves the two of them with nerves, and Kamui beaming with excitement. Tonight was going to be so much fun, he could tell.

Gently urging the mirror out of Asra's hands, he catches the magician's tenderhearted gaze, saying, "You should do Julian's makeup, then we'll come full circle." To his pleasant surprise, the concept doesn't seem to embarrass him, proving only mildly unexpected as Asra blinks slowly up at him. For a moment, Kamui is distracted by his beauty, with the glitter around his eyes and his pale lashes. It's with thoughts of other looks Kamui could one day do for him that he nearly misses it when Asra speaks.

"I can do that." Catching Julian's gaze, he waits for the doctor to agree or disagree with the notion. Struggling to appear unaffected, Julian puts on a straight face, although his fingers drum anxiously against his thigh.

"Nothing too dramatic," he assents. Asra heaves an exaggerated sigh, pretending to look horribly put-upon.

"Oh, darn. And here I really wanted to use this rainbow lipstick." Silver eyes widen, looking immediately to Kamui. The apprentice covers his mouth with a laugh, confusing Asra, who frowns, lost. "What?" he asks.

"Nothing," Kamui dismisses, waving a hand in front of his face. "I love you, darling."

It doesn't take long at all for Julian's makeup to be done; fortuitous, really, as Kamui wasn't so sure Julian could handle being so close to Asra's face for much longer. It took a lot of teasing banter from the magician to get Julian to relax, but even then, there was an obvious tension about him, his eyes constantly straying to Asra's lips, pursed in concentration. Kamui understood. Asra had the most kissable lips he'd ever encountered.

The end result is more complex than Julian's usual look, yet very similar regardless. It incorporates some gold along his black winged eyeliner, hints of red to the dark brown contour along his prominent cheekbones. The shadow was an intensely deep red, as well, as opposed to the purple-hue from before.

Kamui nods his approval, unable to stop himself from reaching out to trace the line of Julian's cheekbones, careful not to ruin anything. There's a light dusting of magic which Kamui quickly identifies as something specifically to keep the makeup from smearing. Kamui smiles warmly. It was amusing to think that Asra had so little faith in Julian's ability not to smudge his own makeup.

Eyelids lowering, Kamui draws his fingers down along Julian's jaw, peering up at him through snowy lashes. "Now, _you_ ," Kamui starts, ensuring Julian had his full attention—when didn't he, when he was touching the man in such a way, putting color in his pale cheeks—before he continues. "Alluring, dark, mysterious."

"Until I open my mouth," Julian quips, a hint of self-deprecation in his otherwise humorous tone. Kamui tuts, shutting him up in an instant.

"It's your charm," Kamui insists. "Suave and sensual, and then you open your mouth, and your witticisms, your flirtations, your ridiculous stories and best of all, the little noises you make when you're aroused…" He presses a finger against Julian's bottom lip, dragging slowly downwards to his chin, feeling the man's shallow breath against his skin. "You're a vision, Julian," he adds, as his hands trail down over the feathers of Julian's blazer. "And I'm _really_ attracted to this entire look you've got going on. I think if I'd only met you tonight, I'd already be infatuated." He tilts his head back. "But then again, I could say that about both of you."

Asra leans forward to give Kamui a kiss on the cheek, a smile forming on his apprentice's face automatically.

"I, um," Julian stutters, drawing Kamui's attention back to him. He's blushing. "Not to sound terribly melancholic, but people aren't usually this… nice to me? I don't know what to say."

"I'm only saying what's true," Kamui says, with a certain severity, to _show_ Julian just how genuine he's being. Reaching up, he caresses both sides of Julian's face, feeling the man lean into his right palm. "One day, I'm going to be a great poet, and I'll drown the two of you in poems about your spectacular beauty and how happy you both make me. So you'd better start preparing now, really."

With a laugh, Julian leans in, pressing their foreheads together for just a moment before their lips meet, chaste. Julian is smiling too wide to accomplish much more, adoration in his silver eyes as he stares into Kamui's, and he says, "I'll teach you." Kamui's eyes grow wider in response.

"Really? You mean that?" he asks, incredibly eager. Julian's smile grows wider, showing off teeth before he manages to cool it into something milder.

"Of course. You're a wonderful student, I already know as much," he says, reaching up to brush Kamui's curly bangs behind his ear. Kamui grins, pulling him in for another kiss that hardly connects properly, with how much they're smiling. But they try anyway, passing more of Kamui's gloss onto Julian's lips.

When they pull apart, Kamui notices Asra watching them from Julian's other side, having moved there to complete his makeup. He's smiling keenly at the both of them, chin propped up on his hand, legs crossed at the knee.

After that, Kamui helps Julian fashion his mask over his eyes, combing his auburn hair into place over his right eye. It isn't until the task is done and Kamui is grinning adoringly up at his boyfriend that something very important occurs to him.

"Wait, I don't have a mask?" Kamui turns to Asra with an inquisitive frown. "Did you?"

"I," Asra starts, eyes drifting away to something in the distance, behind Kamui, "... _Might_ have had something to do with that."

Kamui squints at him, leading him to explain without any further prompting.

"It was while you were… unwell," he explains, referring to earlier that day. "I had no idea Nadia was going to do something like this, rather… I mentioned something that must have made her skip over bringing us masks."

Glancing quickly to Julian, who appears just as out of the loop, Kamui tilts his head and says, "'Something'?"

In response, Asra raises up from the bed, wandering over to the edge of the bed nearest the door, pulling his bag out from underneath it. He digs around for awhile, eventually producing two items wrapped in cloth and twine. Holding them close to his chest, he hesitates for a moment before returning to the bed, taking a seat next to Kamui. One of the parcels is set off to the side. The other is offered up to Kamui with both hands, a deep blush on Asra's face as ruby eyes glance between the two points of interest.

Accepting the item, Kamui glances quickly back to Asra, seeking permission before carefully unwinding the twine. The cloth falls away as soon as the binding comes loose, revealing a pure white mask in the shape of a cat, from its pointed ears to the shape of a feline mouth. Features are drawn on in red and pale gold paint, from the red whiskers to the sharp eyeliner and heart-shaped nose. Red tassels with golden bands dangle from small loops on the side.

Awestruck, he smooths a hand over the surface; it was smooth and cool to the touch. Realizing he's gone completely silent staring at the mask for far too long, he looks up, meeting Asra's gaze. There's uncertainty in his soft, lavender eyes, a need for Kamui's approval that he wasn't used to seeing on _his_ face; Julian's, of course, but Asra was always so sure of himself in everything he did, or so it seemed. This mattered, maybe more than Kamui could ever hope to understand, and he finds himself having to pick his words carefully.

Not that he was any good at that. "Where did you get this?" he asks, staring back down at the mask.

"…I made it," Asra answers, timid. Swallowing thickly, as the blood rushes to Kamui's face, eyes widening with realization, Asra looks away. "A long time ago, but I redid the paint a month or so ago. I thought maybe you'd want to go this year…" _With me_ remains unsaid, but hangs in the air regardless. Kamui's heart thuds loudly in his ears. "I never got a chance to give it to you for the last one."

The sheer amount of _weight_ behind that single sentence would've knocked Kamui clean off his feet, if he'd been standing. As it was, it tightens around his chest, putting a strain on his throat. It was just so upsetting to think about; Asra, all alone, missing him terribly, everything he must have planned for them to do together gone to waste. For one single moment of clarity, it occurs to him just how familiar that is, to be alone, missing someone's presence, yet so much worse knowing, for a cold, hard fact, that that person was never coming back.

"Kamui? Please don't cry."

The sound of Asra's voice draws his focus, and he blinks upon realizing his vision has blurred. There's moisture around his eyes and he struggles to hold back, taking a deep breath to steady himself. It works more than he thought it would, drying his eyes moments later. "Sorry," he says. Drawing the mask up to his chest, he gazes into Asra's eyes with a tender smile, saying, "It's perfect. I love it."

Slowly, Asra returns the smile, holding his gaze for a prolonged moment neither of them feel inclined to break. His heart aches, in a strangely pleasant sort of way.

Eventually Kamui looks away, back down to the mask. "What did you make this out of? It's so smooth."

"Birchwood," Asra replies. To hear that it was wooden has Kamui looking to him in surprise, having expected some kind of stone or other mineral.

"But it's so polished. How long did you spend on it?"

"I'm unsure," Asra says, looking off to one side. "But my fingers blistered."

Kamui stares down at the mask, thumbs brushing over the finely-polished wood. To hear that Asra inadvertently hurt himself just to present him with something of this quality… maybe he should be upset, maybe he should tell Asra to take care of himself better. But none of that so much as occurs to him. Instead, he's overwhelmed with a warm, almost tingling feeling, chest flooding with it. He was so dedicated, so devoted…

"I love you," Kamui blurts out, surprising Asra with the unexpected severity both of his voice, and the look of longing on his face. "I don't even have the words… You're so perfect. I feel like I'll never be able to properly convey how much you mean to me and how important you are to me and how much I appreciate everything you do for me." To himself, he adds, _Next year, you'll be accepting one of these from_ me, _instead_.

Lips pressing tightly together as his breaths grow almost nonexistent, Asra turns his head away, yet repeatedly glances to Kamui anyway, a thick blush on his face. Realizing, yet again, that his bangs were brushed back, he pretends to need to adjust his hair as an excuse to hide behind his hand for a little while. It takes awhile before he responds, but Kamui is too busy staring at him and drifting off into his own mind to notice.

"Just having you around is more than enough, Kamui," Asra says softly, nerves causing his voice to wobble slightly. "I love you, too. More than you know."

 _I want to know_ , Kamui thinks, but instead, he pulls the mask away from his chest far enough to look at it again. Meeting Asra's glossy-eyed gaze, he says, "Will you help me put it on?" With a nod, Asra scoots closer, lifting the mask up out of Kamui's hands and quickly locating the ivory ribbon attached to the back. Kamui bows his head, allowing Asra to tie it around the back. The ribbon blends flawlessly into his hair.

Once its fastened in place, fitting perfectly along the bridge of his nose, Kamui smiles, raising back up. Asra doesn't get too far away, remaining leaned halfway over Kamui's lap. Perfectly within kissing distance, as Kamui is quick to prove, his hand resting on the nape of the magician's neck while their lips connect.

"Now show me yours," Kamui prompts, gesturing to the other cloth package.

The golden fox mask is simple in design, but matches Asra's outfit perfectly, in Kamui's opinion. He especially likes the tassels; but that had a lot to do with the fact it meant their masks matched. With a smile, he helps Asra into it, tying a cute little bow in the back. After showering him in compliments over the look, they move on, preparing to make their leave to the masquerade proper.

"Is there some kind of etiquette for this sort of thing?" Kamui finds himself asking, walking between the other two, arm-in-arm. Julian goes to open his mouth to answer first, but Asra beats him to it.

"No one cares," he says. "Guzzle the chocolate fountain if you want."

Shrugging, Julian adds, "If anyone tries to stop you, just run away really fast."

With a startled and charmed laugh, Kamui smiles to both his partners in turn. "I knew there was a reason I kept you two around."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on tumblr!!! and look at my art I draw a lot of arcana fanart y'all  
> https://koteosa.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> https://koteosa.carrd.co/


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